


Gonna Be My Bruise

by ilostmyshoe



Series: A Smile Like the Sunrise [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Nerdiness, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe/pseuds/ilostmyshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Bradbury’s first brush with the supernatural happened years before she fought leviathans with the Winchesters. It all started when she met a cute blonde working at a bar in a small college town. What began as a simple crush became something more, and Charlie found herself pulled into a confusing world of mystery and danger. </p><p>It was only much later, after meeting the Winchesters and reading the Supernatural books, that Charlie began to understand who the love of her life really was. This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Junk Is You

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written to fit into cannon and references multiple cannon character deaths. It contains cuteness, snarkiness, romance, smut, and a large number of nerdy pop-culture references, but consider yourself warned: it does not have a happy ending.
> 
> All credit for the amazing art goes to [nevertoldmewhat](http://nevertoldmewhat.livejournal.com/). I feel so amazingly blessed to have gotten to work with her again. I love everything that she draws. You can see her art masterpost [here](http://nevertoldmewhat.livejournal.com/1322.html).
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [safiyabat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat) for her encouragement and feedback. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own fault.
> 
> The story and chapter titles are references to songs from Spring Awakening.

 

_I know a girl whose heart breaks like clockwork_   
_Every Tuesday afternoon at 4:30_   
_When the door stays shut and the phone stays silent_   
_And it hits her again that you’re gone for good._

_Every week, come Wednesday morning, she picks up the pieces_   
_One by one, like shells scattered on a sandy beach._   
_She glues them together with hope and a prayer,_   
_Facing the world with a smile in her eyes and a knife in her back pocket._

_Like a daffodil bursting through the soil in January,_   
_She’ll never believe what everyone keeps telling her._   
_Flowers aren’t meant for this frozen climate_   
_But damn it, sometimes they fight through anyway._

_I know a girl whose heart breaks like clockwork,_   
_So I hoard the shattered remnants of my own_   
_For the times when even her intricate repair work_   
_Can’t cover all the gaps, and she finds herself missing one last piece._

_-Indomitable by Charlie Bradbury_

“Oh my god. Oh my god! _Oh my god!!!”_ Charlie squealed, flailing and bouncing in excitement.

Across the table from her, Genesis winced dramatically, squeezing her eyes closed and covering her ears until Charlie stopped. Then she sighed, dropped her hands, and looked at her friend in exasperation. “Care to explain? After all that craziness, it’d better be good.”

“Dude. You don’t understand. Cinnamon chapstick. _Cinnamon fucking chapstick!_ That means _Satsu_ was totally the one that kissed Buffy! Real, canon, slayer-on-slayer lip action! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for that? Buffy and Kendra. Buffy and _Faith_. And now it’s real. They better follow up on it, or I swear I will _never_ forgive Joss.”

Genesis scoffed. “Right. Like you could ever hold a grudge against the incomparable Joss Whedon, your lord and master.”

“Whatever. You know nothing.” Charlie crossed her arms, sniffed, and mumbled, “Technically he’s more like my god.”

“Didn’t you say that about George R. R. Martin? And Gail Simone? And Tamora Pierce? And Tolkien?” Genesis ticked each name off on her fingers. “And those were just in the past week.”

Charlie grinned and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an incorrigible polytheist.”

“Whatever, dork.” Genesis shook her head. “Why don’t you get back to your reading? Some of us have actual homework to do. I need to finish this problem set in the next forty-five minutes if you want me to give trivia my undivided attention.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Bossy McBosserson,” Charlie muttered without any real bite. She picked up her next comic and turned sideways in the booth so that she could put her feet up on the bench seat, lean her back against the wall, and have a clear view of most of the room.

The place fell just on the nicer side of dive bar. The dark wooden tables were worn but mostly clean. The lamps on the walls gave off just enough light to read by, but paled in comparison to the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the wall of windows that looked out onto the street. The beer selection was extensive, the mixed drinks were basic, and the wine list was non-existent. The food wasn’t fancy, but the tater tots were the best in town.

The place had been almost empty when they arrived and only a handful of people had come in since then, but Charlie knew from experience that it would be almost full by the time the trivia contest started. That was part of the reason she and Genesis made a habit of arriving early—to stake out a good table and get some work done. Well, Genesis was working; Charlie was enjoying this week’s harvest from new comic book day.

As Charlie took a moment to cleanse her mental palate for her next comic she noticed a weird interaction across the room. Two guys had left their table and were looming over a girl who had been working by herself, nursing a beer and a plate of fries. Charlie was too far away to hear exactly what was being said, but the guys looked hostile, and the girl looked uncomfortable.

Charlie nudged Genesis and nodded in their direction. “Hey, that doesn’t look kosher. Should we—I dunno—do something or say something to someone?”

Genesis frowned, but then visibly relaxed. “Nah. It’s okay. Jo’s got it.”

“Joe?” Charlie asked in confusion. The only other person she saw in the area was a petite blonde in an apron. Sure, she was walking toward the group with intention, but when she reached the guys she barely came up to their shoulders. They certainly didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. One of them bent down to sneer in her face. When she responded, too low to hear, he reached out to grab her.

*SLAM*

In a second she had him pressed flat against the table with his arm twisted behind his back and his face perilously close to the upturned tines of a fork. She held him there for a moment, leaned over and whispered something in his ear, then let him go, backing up to give him and his buddy space. The dude shook himself off and turned to face her indignantly. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him.

He stood for a moment with his mouth gaping then snapped it shut, rolled his shoulders, and stomped out of the bar, pulling his friend with him. The blonde watched them leave before nodding her head in satisfaction and leaning down to check on the girl.

“God damn, that was hot,” Charlie sighed.

Genesis chuckled, “Tell me about it.” They both watched as the blonde returned to work.

“So, you said her name’s Jo?”

“Yup. She started working here a couple months back. She waits tables, tends bar, and kicks out lowlifes like a real-life superhero. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed her before.” Genesis turned back to look at Charlie and groaned at the dreamy expression on her face. “Oh honey, seriously, please don’t go there.”

Charlie startled out of her haze. “What? Why not? Is she straight? That doesn’t have to be a problem. Sexuality is a continuum you know . . .”

Genesis shrugged. “I don’t know if she’s gay, straight, or something else, but she regularly turns down guys and girls with the same polite firmness. At this point my best guess is that she’s in a long-distance relationship or just came out of a really messy break-up.”

“Your best guess? Why haven’t you just asked her?”

“Because in my experience, some people appreciate subtlety?”

Charlie pouted. “I can be subtle.”

Genesis snorted. “Yeah, right. Subtle like a brick to the head.”

Charlie made a face at her, but spent the rest of the night thinking about how she could approach Jo more casually. Genesis insisted that her distraction caused their subpar trivia score, but they still squeaked by with a first place finish, so Charlie didn’t take her complaints too seriously.

A couple days later Charlie dragged Genesis to a booth that she estimated should be in Jo’s section. She debated double checking with the hostess, but decided that might be overkill. She could always ask to switch tables if she found out that she had guessed wrong.

She fiddled with her silverware, ran over her plan in her head, and tried to look like she was listening intently to whatever Genesis was talking about. She knew she’d failed when she noticed fingers snapping in front of her face.

“Hey. Earth to Charlie. Did you hear anything I just said?”

“What? Oh. Sorry. I was totally listening, I just . . .” Charlie trailed off, shifted in her seat, and grinned in triumph as she saw Jo walking towards them.

Genesis glanced over her shoulder and sighed in resignation. “Oh. Of course. God, I hope second-hand embarrassment isn’t fatal.”

Charlie kept her smile and hissed under her breath, “Shut up. Don’t you dare embarrass me.”

Genesis rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because _I’m_ the embarrassing one.” But she mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

Jo stopped in front of their table and looked between them curiously before starting her spiel. “Hi. I’m Jo, and I’ll be your server today–“

“Hi, Jo,” Charlie interrupted. “I’m Charlie.” She held out her hand.

Jo raised her eyebrows and paused for a moment before reaching to shake the offered hand. Charlie rotated her wrist, shifted her grip, and bent to gently brush the back of Jo’s hand with her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Genesis broke into an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Jo carefully extracted her hand and forced a bright smile. “So, um, our specials today are baked potato soup and 25 cent wings with the purchase of a drink. The beer list is here. Just a heads up, we are out of the Fox Pear Cider, but we do still have the Angry Orchard. Let me know if you have any questions, and I’ll be back for your order in a couple of minutes.”

She turned and walked quickly back to the bar.

“Oh, god.” Charlie stared after her in horror. “Oh, sweet Joss on a cracker, what did I just do?”

Genesis shook her head and wiped tears out of the corner of her eye. “Fucked if I know.”

“I just– I can’t– I’ve gotta go fix it.” Charlie scrambled out of the booth after Jo.

Genesis opened her mouth and reached out a hand to object, but her friend was already gone, so she just sighed and dropped her head onto the table with a hollow thud.

Charlie caught up with Jo in the hall that lead back to the bathrooms and the kitchen. She reached out to touch the other girl’s shoulder to get her to stop, but Jo spun around and stepped out of reach in one smooth motion. Her face was carefully neutral as she looked at Charlie’s outstretched arm. Charlie looked at it too, slowly pulled it back, and shoved both hands in the pockets of her jeans.

After a long moment Jo cleared her throat. “Yes? Did you need something?”

Charlie looked up from her shoes, but couldn’t meet Jo’s eyes for long. “Yeah. I just—I wanted to apologize for, well, for all of that back there.” She waved back at the booth. “It was maybe, kinda, sorta, a lot over the top. I just get a bit melodramatic when I’m excited or nervous or, well, pretty much anything at all. But it wasn’t fair to you. I mean, you’re completely gorgeous, so I’m sure you get hit on all the time, especially at work. And I hate the idea that tonight you’ll just think of me as one more annoying customer with no manners or common sense. So . . . yeah. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, I really am, and I promise it will never happen again. Please forgive me?” She bit her bottom lip and gave her best puppy-dog eyes.

“Huh.” Jo leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “Out of all the cheesy lines I’ve heard, this might just be the first time someone’s come and apologized afterwards.” She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. “You know, I think you may have found the secret key to my heart. I can feel your apology seeping into my blood, flooding me with a sudden, overpowering urge. I _must_ go out with you right away. Hell, screw the going out. Who’s got time for that? Let’s skip straight to the fucking.”

Charlie just gaped at her openmouthed, so Jo continued, “Well? What are you waiting for? Life’s short. There’s gotta be somewhere private around here. Unless you want to do it right here in the hall?”

“R-really?” Charlie stuttered in shock.

Jo stared at her for a moment before doubling over in laughter. “Wow. Just . . . wow,” she gasped, shaking her head. “You really thought . . . I can’t believe . . . Man, you should have seen your face . . .”

She straightened to see Charlie’s eyes narrow and jaw clench. She swallowed down the last of her giggles and tried to look contrite. “Hey. No. Don’t take it like that. I’m not laughing at you.” She paused at Charlie’s skeptical raised eyebrow then continued, “Well, okay, maybe a little, but I’m not trying to be mean, I swear. You gotta admit, it was an unbelievable proposal. But after the day I’ve had I really needed a laugh, so thanks for that.” Her smile was so genuine that Charlie had to smile back.

“Hey, whenever you need some ridiculousness added to your day, I’m more than happy to oblige. We should hang out sometime, maybe get some coffee, and you can laugh at me all you want.”

“Duly noted.” Jo nodded. “I just may take you up on that. Though, just so there’s no confusion, the hanging out would be purely platonic. I’ve pretty much sworn off dating for the foreseeable future.” Charlie opened her mouth to ask, but Jo cut her off. “Shit went down. It was fairly intense, and I don’t want to talk about it. Just roll with it. It won’t be a problem if you don’t make it one.”

Charlie shrugged. “Fair enough. I can’t pretend it’s anything but a damn shame, or that I’m not dying to know more, but if you say MYOB then I can do that.”

“Cool. Thanks. And if I ever do decide to start dating again you’ll be the first to know.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes and bit back a smile. “Now, that was sarcasm again, right?”

“Nope. God’s honest truth. What can I say? I have a soft spot for gorgeous geeks who are a little slow on the uptake.”

“What? Gorgeous? Seriously? But I’m not . . . Wait. Who says I’m a geek?”

“Oh, honey. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Jo shook her head. “I work here. Your team of two has won trivia night five weeks running. I noticed. I can’t help it; it’s weirdly sexy. Now go back to your friend. I’ve got work to do, and I don’t get paid to flirt with red-heads, no matter how cute they are.” She winked and walked back to the kitchen.

Charlie stumbled back to her table in a daze. “Oh yeah. Totally platonic. Not a problem at all. Oh god, I’m so fucked.”

A week later Jo took Charlie up on her offer of coffee. Jo had managed to snag a corner table at one of the bustling campus coffee shops. Charlie grinned as she sat down across from her.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few minutes.

Charlie coughed. “So, um is it just me, or does this feel eerily like an awkward blind date? Which is extra-weird considering the whole not-a-date aspect and all.”

“You never have coffee with your friends?”

“Well, maybe not _never_ never, but not often, no. Usually we’re actually doing something, you know?”

“And coffee’s not ‘doing something?’”

“Not really. I mean, we’re usually watching a movie or gaming or playing trivia. And if we aren’t actually doing it in the moment, we have done it together in the past, so it gives us something to talk about. This? With you? I mean, I’m sure you’re awesome—I am—but I don’t have a clue where to start conversation-wise. It’s a little intimidating, you know?”

“Uh-huh.” Jo folded her hands on the table. “Well, let’s start simple: tell me about yourself.”

Charlie gaped at the blonde across from her. “Seriously? That’s your opening line? Are you frakking kidding me?”

“Why not?” Jo shrugged. “It’s short and sweet. And I think a person’s first response can tell you a lot.”

“Oh. Right. I guess . . . I don’t suppose surprised skepticism was the response you were shooting for?”

Jo looked thoughtful. “Eh. It’s not the worst answer I’ve heard. Doesn’t help much on the conversation front, though.”

“Well, now that I know my answer’s being psychoanalyzed, I’ve got performance anxiety. My mind’s a total blank.” Charlie pouted and batted her eyelashes. “How about if you go first, show me how it’s done?”

Jo bit back a smile. “Good lord. It’s seriously not supposed to be that complicated. Let me see . . . My name’s Jo Harvelle. My full name is Joanna Beth, but the only one that uses it is my mom when she’s pissed at me. I grew up in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska. Went away to college, but it wasn’t for me. I moved back home for a while, spent some time in Minnesota, then moved down here. I’ve been working at the Blue Elephant about four months now.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s fine—familiar. My family owns a roadhouse back home, so I’ve been bussing tables since I could barely see over the bar. The pay’s not great, but it’s decent. The staff are all pretty chill, and the boss is cool.”

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“Shoot. No promises of an answer though.”

“The first time I saw you you basically destroyed this guy that was almost twice your size. It was probably the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever seen in real life. How the hell did you learn to do that?”

“It’s really not a big deal. It’s just—my dad died when I was a kid, and the roadhouse gets all kinds of folks coming through. My mom taught me how to take care of my self. Most guys are wimps anyways—fold at the first sign of resistance.”

“If you say so. I thought it was wicked cool.” Charlie grinned. “So what about in your free time? What do you do when you aren’t at work?”

“Oh, you know, nothing too exciting. I take mini-road trips pretty often. The boss is really good about giving me a couple of days off as long as it’s during the week and I let him know in advance.”

“Yeah? That sounds fun. What kind of stuff did you do on your last trip?” Charlie asked.

Jo shrugged, and her smile looked a little forced. “Actually, you know what? That’s more than enough about me. I think it’s time to hear about you. You’ve had plenty of time to think now, right?”

“Fine.” Charlie drew out the word in mock annoyance. “But only because you asked so nicely. Let’s see . . . My name is Charlie Bradbury. In theory I’m an adjunct professor at the university. I’m a pretty well rounded nerd, into everything sci-fi/fantasy from books to comics to movies to gaming. If forced to choose, I’d pick Star Wars over Star Trek, but only because Princess Leia played a pivotal role in my childhood fantasies—and my not-so-childhood fantasies, if you know what I mean.”

“Woah. Back up. What do you mean you’re an associate professor ‘in theory’?”

“You caught that, huh?” Charlie bit her lip. “Okay. It means that if you look me up in the university’s system I’m listed as an adjunct professor, but I don’t actually teach any classes or work on any official research or anything.”

“What’s the point of that?”

“It gets me access to the associated perks. The most important is the high speed internet, but there are some surprisingly sweet educator discounts as well. Pepé’s Pizza is 25% off on Mondays, and I get 10% off at the campus bookstore.” Charlie grinned.

“But how do you make money?”

“Well, uh, I guess you could call it cyber-security consulting? I find the flaws and weaknesses in the online security systems of large companies.”

“Okay, and what about from the university’s perspective? What’s the point of having you on staff if you aren’t doing anything for them?”

“Oh. Well, uh, they don’t exactly know about it. I’m not getting any funding or benefits from them, so I don’t show up on any normal internal audits, and when I first set up the id I put in some protection so that my info won’t show up on any generic search results or exports. I’m kind of like the ghost in the machine, you know?”

Jo stared at her with furrowed brows and a gaping mouth.

“Ghost in the Machine? The book that inspired Ghost in the Shell?” Charlie prompted. “Have you seen it? It’s this really cool anime that explores the concept of humanity through badass cyborg cops.”

Jo’s mouth shut with a snap. “Yeah, the nerd reference wasn’t really the part I was stuck on. We basically just met, and you’re gleefully explaining how you’re defrauding the university? What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I was hoping you’d think it was badass?” Charlie shrugged and tried to look innocent, suddenly wishing she’d thought this through a little more.

Jo burst out laughing. “A talented hacker who uses her skills to get fraudulent access to high-speed internet and junk-food discounts. Fuck my life. Are you also a fan of mullets, pool tables, and hacking naked?” Her whole body shook as she hid her face in her hands.

After a minute Charlie went from nervous to confused to concerned. She tentatively reached over and touched Jo on the shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Jo raised her head, sniffed, and wiped her eyes before smiling shakily. “Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Life’s just weird sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed tentatively, wondering where her own life would fall on Jo’s scale of weirdness.

“So, hey, let’s try for a less dramatic subject. Tell me about your friend—the one with the dreads and the fancy clothes. How does she fit in to your scandalous life of cyber crime?”

“Genesis? Well, first off, they aren’t dread’s, they’re _twists._ I learned that the hard way—you don’t really want to make that mistake to her face. And second, I believe her label-of-choice these days is haute butch, just f.y.i. Uh, what else can I say about her? She’s a bio-engineering major, a poly-sci geek, and a shameless sports nerd, which complements my talents perfectly and makes us the trivia team supreme that you know and love.”

“And she’s a lesbian?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you’re a lesbian?”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah. I thought the whole dramatically-asking-you-out thing made that pretty clear. Was I too subtle? Genesis said I should be subtle, but maybe I overdid it?”

Jo bit back a laugh and shook her head. “Too much subtlety is definitely not your problem.”

“Then why the twenty questions?”

“Were you two ever, you know, together?” Jo gestured awkwardly with her hands.

“Me and Genesis? A world of no. Oh man, that would be an unmitigated disaster. Part of the reason our friendship works as well as it does is our explicit lack of attraction to each other. Well, that and out shared love of Morena Baccarin.”

“Morena who?”

“Morena Baccarin. You know, Inara on ‘Firefly’? She was also on that show ‘V’—which Genesis swears by—but she will always be Inara to me. Damn that woman is gorgeous, right?”

Jo shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never even heard of either of those shows.”

Charlie stared at her in shock.

“What? I’m not really a t.v. person.”

“But . . . but . . . ‘Firefly.’ It’s like the purest, greatest Whedon t.v. in existence—with the possible exception of ‘Dr. Horrible.’ And there’s only the one season and the movie—which is an absolute travesty, but does mean that there’s absolutely no excuse for not watching it.” Charlie paused for a breath, and Jo just shrugged again.

“Okay, well, what about other shows? Have you seen ‘Buffy’?”

Head shake.

“Angel?”

“What about non-Whedon stuff? Battlestar? Doctor Who? Veronica Mars?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t watch t.v. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Are you kidding me? This is awesome! It’s like dating a virgin!”

“Excuse me?” Jo crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“No, I’m not—I’m not saying you’re actually a virgin—or that we’re actually dating. But it’s like you’re a sci-fi virgin, and now I have this awesome opportunity—except really it’s more of a responsibility. There’s this whole world out there that you don’t even know about, and I get to introduce you to all of it.” She was bouncing in her seat. “There’s so much to think about. Do I prioritize strictly based on quality or take length into consideration? Should we start with a sampler to see what you like best or just go straight through one at a time? Should we feather in episodes of Angel while watching Buffy or only include the crossover episodes? So many choices. This is going to be so much fun!”

Jo scoffed under her breath and leaned back in her chair, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, man. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

 


	2. The Sadness in Your Soul

Over the next couple of weeks Charlie convinced Jo to start what Charlie described as an “exploration of the core essentials of sci-fi television” and Jo called “t.v. binge watching 101”. Though Jo claimed reluctance, their bi-weekly sessions soon became a fixture of her schedule. Charlie also started showing up at the Blue Elephant in the early afternoon and hanging out at the bar, chatting with Jo whenever business was slow.

“Hey, can I ask you a kinda weird question?”

“Do you know any other kind?” Jo leaned back with her elbows on the bar. She didn’t look at Charlie beside her, but the corner of her mouth twitched up in the hint of a smile.

Charlie turned her bar stool towards Jo and made a face. “‘Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.’”

Jo snorts. “I believe the phrase is: ‘My days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle.’”

Charlie faked shock and pressed a hand to her chest, “Can it be? She quotes ‘Firefly’ back at me? Be still my heart. I think I’m in love.”

“Dork.” Jo rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t bite back her smile any longer. “You said you had a question?”

“Yeah, but you can’t get mad at me for it, okay?”

Jo turned her head to look at Charlie quizzically. “Should I be worried?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so, I just . . . promise you won’t get upset. Please?”

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just ask already.”

Charlie fiddled with her fingers on the bar. “I guess I just noticed that today—well, every Tuesday, really—you seem kinda down. Not like in a whiny way or a self-pitying way or anything like that, just in a subtle sort of ‘life sucks more than usual,’ ‘more in touch with the tragedy of life on this planet’ kind of way. I was wondering if it was something you wanted to talk about?”

Jo turned her face to look back out at the bar, pressed her lips together, and said nothing.

Charlie continued, “Because you seem like someone who doesn’t like to talk about personal things, but maybe if you opened up it would be cathartic or something.”

“And I was wondering if it had anything to do with whatever bad thing made you not want to date people? Or maybe with whoever that hacker was that I guess I remind you of? Or maybe both? Neither? You gotta give me something here, or I’ll just keep fishing. I can be obnoxious like that.” She grinned and leaned over to try to catch Jo’s eye.

Jo closed her eyes, took a slow breath in, held it for a count of five, and released it slowly. She turned her whole body to face Charlie, narrowed her eyes, and bent forwards into the other woman’s space. When she spoke her voice was a harsh whisper.

“Look. I get it. You’re too cute for your own good. You have this whole act going of ‘I can’t help it if I’m obnoxious; I’m just an adorable, socially-awkward nerd girl,’ and people have been letting you get away with it for so long that you’ve forgotten how to act any other way. But let’s be real: it’s a bullshit excuse to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong and pass on dealing with the social fallout. Well, fuck that.

“You don’t know me, you don’t know what I’ve been through, and I see no reason that I would ever, _ever_ want to tell you. I’m not looking for a—what d’you call it?—a manic-pixie dream girl to wake me out of my funk. I’m not a character for you to analyze, a puzzle for you to solve, or a problem for you to fix.

“This is a public place of business, so I’m not gonna ask you to leave, but I am gonna strongly suggest that you not say another word to me. And next time you ask a question and someone decides not to answer it? Take the goddamn hint. Got it?”

She held Charlie’s eyes until the redhead nodded meekly. Then she turned and walked briskly towards the kitchen. Charlie left before she came back.

Charlie and Genesis didn’t go to trivia the next night. It marked the end of their three month winning streak.

They didn’t go the following two weeks either.

The week after that Charlie and Genesis came in at their normal time and sat as far away from Jo’s section as possible. They ordered their usual and settled down to read. Charlie had finished three comics and most of her tots when Jo hesitantly approached the table.

The blonde stood there for a minute, awkwardly twisting the rag in her hands. Genesis shielded her eyes with her hand and redoubled her focus on her notes.

Charlie rolled her eyes, heaved a sigh, and said, “What? I’m not here to bug you. I’m just here to play trivia with _my_ _friend_. I promise not to ask anybody any _personal_ _questions_. And I wouldn’t have said a word to you if you hadn’t come over here, scout’s honor.”

Jo crossed her arms over her chest. “Look. I know this is awkward—trust me, I do—but it’s important. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure. Talk.”

Jo looked at Genesis, around at the rest of the bar, and then back at Charlie. “Actually, I think it’d be better if we talked in private.”

“Really?” Charlie cocked her head to the side. “I can’t imagine why. I’m sure if you get in my face enough no one else will be able to hear. Or is the booth seat just too low for that? I can stand up if it’ll make it easier for you.”

“Damn it, Charlie!” Jo clenched her jaw and took a slow breath in and out. “I swear, if I could leave you alone I would, but this isn’t about me. People are—“ She stopped herself, looked around, and continued more quietly, “There are people in trouble, and I need you to help me help them.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and she swallowed once. “Well, you get definite points for cryptic ingenuity . . . but I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, and I don’t see why I should help with whatever the hell it is.” Jo opened her mouth to argue, but Charlie continued before she could, “Whatever. Fine. We can talk after trivia’s over. No promises, though.”

Jo nodded slightly. “Good enough. I’ll see you then.”

She turned on her heel. Genesis looked at Charlie and raised her eyebrows.

Charlie shrugged. “See what I mean? And you thought I was melodramatic.”

“Huh. Maybe you two are meant for each other.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying . . . I mean, ‘Hey!’”

Charlie was actually bouncing when Jo ushered her into a back room a couple of hours later.

“Oh my god. I know it was my idea to wait, because I was trying to be all cool and aloof or whatever, but the suspense is frakking killing me here. I almost missed that D&D question because I couldn’t stop trying to figure it out. What the hell is going on?”

Jo sat down at the rickety break-room table and motioned to Charlie to do the same. “Okay, this might sound crazy, but . . . well . . . I kinda solve crimes in my spare time. My road trips out of state? They’re usually cases where I, uh, know something that the police don’t, so I go up there to investigate and make sure the killer doesn’t get away.”

“What would you know that the police don’t?”

“That’s hard to explain . . . It’s kind of a legacy from my dad. Plus, the police tend to be pretty incompetent at seeing the big picture, so there’s that.”

Charlie gaped at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re seriously saying you’re a real-life Veronica Mars!?!”

“Didn’t you say she’s a high school student, like Nancy Drew? I’m not finding lost dogs or stolen lunch money; I’m talking about finding and stopping killers.”

“Veronica Mars totally solves murders and stops killers!” Jo raised an eyebrow, and Charlie rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. She’s fictional and in high school and you’re a thousand times more badass than she could ever hope to . . . Wait. Holy shit! I just realized: does this mean you’re asking me to be the Mac to your Veronica? That’s so cool! I’m totally in! Mac had to deal with Veronica’s surly, mysterious shit too sometimes. I can totally rise to the occasion. Count me in!”

“Well, I only understood about a third of that, but I couldn’t ask for any more enthusiasm, so, cool. Thank you. Here’s the deal: there’s a town a couple of hours south of here that’s had a string of what they think are violent animal attacks. For various reasons, I’m pretty sure they’re wrong. The problem is that they won’t let me look at the bodies, or even the autopsy reports to see if I’m right. I tried going in undercover, but they were super anal about paperwork. And I used to know how to hack into networks like that, but they’ve updated their security and my, uh, former tech guy isn’t really available to help any more. So that’s pretty much it. Can you get me those files, without asking any more questions?”

“Well, I will at least need the actual name of the town and the victims, but yeah. I should be able to do that.”

“Great. Thank you. And Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re cool with this? I mean—well, I can’t say I didn’t mean what I said, but I shouldn’t have gotten in your face like that.”

“Seriously? It’s a chance to play the hero and help the helpless—it’s not like I’d ever say, ‘No,’ to that. And anyway, I know how it feels to regret shitty social choices, so I think I can let it pass—this time.” She looked at Jo seriously. “But next time you better use your words and tell me to stop before you get pissed, ‘cause I don’t wanna make a habit of this whole forgiveness thing.” The corner of her mouth curved in a wry smile, and Jo’s mouth curved in return.

“Well, thank you for your graciousness, your majesty.” Jo made a dramatic, sweeping bow, and when she straightened up her smile was genuine. “You know, I’m really glad you finally decided to come back this week. And not just because there are people dying.”

Charlie blushed. “Well, Genesis was finally back from visiting her girlfriend on the east coast. I couldn’t let her do trivia night alone now, could I? What kind of friend would that make me?”

“Genesis has a girlfriend? You didn’t tell me that! What’s she like?”

“Oh my god. Don’t even get me started. They’re so perfect together, and it’s disgustingly adorable. Think Maureen and Joanne from Rent, but instead of flirting and control issues the only relationship drama they have is this long-distance thing. Once they graduate and move in together they’ll be so blissfully happy that you’ll get skin cancer from standing too close to them.”

“Really? Tell me more. And more importantly, tell me in front of Genesis so that I can get a better sense of how much is true and how much is bullshit.”

“Oh, it’s true alright . . .”

As the weeks turned into months Charlie and Jo fell into a predictable pattern. Jo came to Charlie every week or two to ask for technological assistance on an investigation. Charlie and Genesis returned to being consistent champions at trivia night, with Jo unofficially cheering them on.

Eventually Charlie insisted that if Jo was going to consider herself better than Veronica Mars then she had better at least watch the show. Jo quickly became fully invested, although she insisted that she was only watching because she wanted to make sure that Veronica and Duncan didn’t end up together. When they finished the series it seemed only natural to move on to “Battlestar Galactica” and a new show called “The Sarah Connor Chronicles” that became the first thing they watched together as it aired.

All of their conversations were inspired by investigations or speculative fiction. They rarely talked about their day-to-day lives and never talked about their pasts. It was predictable, reliable, and comfortable, which is why it came as such a shock when Jo broke the pattern.

Jo called Charlie at 5:00 on a Thursday in May. Charlie fumbled her phone and almost let the call go to voicemail as she wracked her brain trying to figure out why Jo might be calling. She had seemed fine at trivia the night before, and it was too early to be calling to change or cancel their regular Monday t.v. viewing.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Jo’s voice was oddly quiet and almost drowned out by a steady buzz of background noise.

“What’s going on? Where are you? It’s really hard to hear . . .”

“Sorry.” There was a click, the noise disappeared, and Jo spoke again. “I’m at work, and after a while I kind of forget how loud the main room is. Is this better?”

“Much. So, not that it’s unwelcome, but what’s with the phone call?” Charlie asked.

“Remember way back when I got pissed at you for asking me about my past and what the deal is with me and Tuesdays? Well, today’s your chance to find out all about my mysterious past. The only catch is you have to come be my designated driver. If you’re up for it, meet me at the bar in twenty minutes.”

Charlie was there in twelve, waiting at the door when Jo grabbed her jacket and pushed her way out into the cool night.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jo said, drumming her fingers against her thigh. “Tonight I am planning on getting completely shit-faced. The upside for you is that I will probably talk about all of the shit that I would never talk about sober. It may be your best chance to learn more than you ever wanted to know about me, my issues, and my past. The trade-off is that I need you to make sue I don’t get into any fights, go home with any strangers, or die of alcohol poisoning. If you’re not interested that’s fine; I’ll figure something else out, but I thought you might be up for it. What d’you say?”

“Umm . . . sure? I guess?”

“Great.” Jo grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards her car. “Let’s go.”

About thirty minutes later Jo directed Charlie to pull into the parking lot of a rundown roadhouse just off the highway.

“Uh, Jo? Is this really where . . . ?”

“Yup. Come on.” Just inside the door Jo stopped and inhaled deeply. “Ahh. Smells just like home.”

Charlie looked at her quizzically and sniffed experimentally, but smelled nothing except stale beer, cigarette smoke, sweat, and dust. She hurried to follow Jo to the bar. Jo ordered two shots of bottom-shelf whiskey, neat, and tossed them both back before ordering another pair and a beer. Charlie awkwardly ordered a ginger ale and followed her to one of the ratty booths.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about getting wasted, were you?”

“Nope.” At least Jo was sipping the whiskey this time.

“So, you wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

They sat in silence. Charlie fiddled with her straw. Jo finished her whiskey and took a swig of beer. Then she leaned her forearms on the table and looked Charlie in the eye.

“Okay. Here’s the deal . . . Wait, I said that already tonight. Here’s the thing—story—whatever. I told you my family owned a place like this, right? I basically grew up there. Bussed tables since I could barely see over the bar. I said that before, right?”

Charlie nodded.

“Well,” Jo continued. “The thing I didn’t tell you is that the whole place blew up. Kaboom. Burned right down to the ground. Killed everyone inside.”

“Oh shit. Jo, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. When did it . . . ?”

“A year ago, today. Hence the drinking and the angst. Seems appropriate, you know?”

Charlie nodded and put her hand over one of Jo’s. “Sure. Yeah, I mean, you should do whatever you need to cope.”

Jo let out a harsh laugh and shook off Charlie’s hand. “Cope. Right. Whatever the fuck that means.” She shook her head and took another drink. “The only home I ever knew is gone. Ash is fucking dead. But that’s all fine, ‘cause I’m _coping_.”

“Ash . . . Is that . . . ?”

“The hacker I said you remind me of? Yup.”

“And the two of you were . . . together? Romantically?”

Jo sprayed her mouthful of beer across the table. “Me and Ash? Together? Oh god, no. That is all kinds of wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I love the dude, but we grew up together. He’s more like my weird, wasted brother who taught me to hack and slept on the pool table.”

Jo’s mood slipped from amused to maudlin as she continued. “You know, when I left home the second time he was the only one that stayed in touch? My mom called at least twice a week when I was at college, but the second time I left? She cut me out without a second thought. Said that if I wanted to ruin my life that was my own damn business, but she didn’t want any part of it. And it wasn’t like I was making new friends at the bar where I was working. Some weeks Ash was the only person in the world who said two words to me that weren’t about somebody’s fucking beer order. But he called ever Tuesday afternoon after the lunch crowd was gone and the dinner prep was done. I figure mom must’ve known—he never could keep a secret worth a damn—but he acted like it was this secret, covert op: hiding in his pigsty of a room and whispering into his cellphone for the first five minutes until he got excited about something and was back to basically shouting at me through the phone.”

Jo slouched down and let her head fall back against the booth.

“Then, one week, he didn’t call.” She rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. “I was really fucking pissed at him about it, too. I figured he got so caught up in helping the damn Winchesters that he forgot about me. Asshole.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “The insurance called me the next day. Said there’d been an explosion and where should they send the paper work—the fucking paper work! I just fucking lost it. Left work in the middle of my shift, got in my car, and drove out there without a word to anyone. Couldn’t process it until I saw it with my own two eyes, and then I basically couldn’t process anything.

“I started randomly calling numbers and leaving frantic voicemail messages before I realized that all of the phones I was trying to reach were probably destroyed in the explosion. Hell, all of the people I was trying to reach . . . I threw up. Right there at the side of the road—heaved until there was nothing left. Then I pulled myself together, drove to the closest motel, and tried to figure out my next steps.”

She trailed off, staring into space. Charlie folded and refolded her hands, licked her lips, and was about to speak when Jo continued.

“Things are a little fuzzy, but I think it was around that time that I realized I had a message from an unknown number. It was from my mom.” Her eyes met Charlie’s.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.” Jo shrugged. “I hadn’t even wondered . . . I hadn’t let myself, you know? But suddenly there she was, telling me in one breath that she was alive and that she couldn’t talk to me again.”

“Wait, what?”

Jo snorted. “Yup. She had to _protect_ me by staying away. ‘Cause when _I_ decide to hunt it’s stupid and reckless, but when _she_ goes after them it’s all noble and shit. Fuck that. I couldn’t even tell her where to stick it—she was calling from a fucking pay phone—but I sure as shit have since then. Though I’m pretty sure Bobby edits out the actual curse words when he passes on my messages.”

Her forehead creased in thought and then smoothed as she looked at Charlie beseechingly. “I just . . . I just wanted my mom, you know? But we had to let them all think she was dead, so I had to be strong, right? I had to set up Ash’s real funeral and mom’s fake one and nod and thank everyone for their bullshit sympathy when they didn’t have a fucking clue what was really going on. And everyone who did have a clue was too busy fighting the good fight to fucking show up. Do you know what that’s like? An almost empty service and all these strangers looking at you with that extra level of pity?”

Jo bit her lip, trying to hold back tears and managed a watery half smile. “I wanna think I made her proud. I tried. I tried so fucking hard, but I just . . . I miss her so damn much. Some days I still wake up in a panic, thinking that she’s actually dead, and I’ve been lying to myself this whole time. Why can’t I have my mom, Charlie? It’s not fair. I just want my mom.”

Charlie switched to Jo’s side of the booth and hesitantly wrapped her arms around her. Jo folded into the embrace, hiding her face in Charlie’s shoulder while Charlie gently stroked her blonde hair and mumbled soothing nonsense.

“Hey. Shhh. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. I don’t totally get everything that happened, but it sounds like you did everything you could. You did more than anyone could have asked you. Shhh. I know your mom loves you and is proud of you. I promise, it’s all gonna be okay.”

They sat like that for a long time. Slowly Jo’s sobs quieted and her breathing evened out, broken only by the occasional sniffle. Charlie’s hand combed through Jo’s hair one more time and stilled. Jo raised her head to look Charlie in the eyes. Their faces were inches apart.

“Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“You ’member way back when I said that if I ever changed my mind about dating I’d let you know?”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie nodded warily.

“Well, consider this me letting you know.” Jo leaned forward to kiss her, but Charlie pulled away, a hand on Jo’s shoulder keeping her from following. Jo froze, sat back against the booth, and pressed her lips together.

She stared straight ahead, refusing to even glance at Charlie. “Right. Of course. Sorry. Note to self: getting wasted and confessing your deep, dark traumas—not the way to a girl’s heart.” She wiped her face and grimaced. “And on top of that I’m snotty and gross. Great! Who wouldn’t want to get with this? I’m gonna go clean up.”

She half stood and gestured for Charlie to move, but Charlie grabbed her hand and gently pulled her back down.

“Hey. No. I think something got lost in translation there.” She used a napkin to wipe at Jo’s face. “This is totally not me saying, ‘Eww, you have issues.’ This is just me saying, ‘I like you, I care about you, and I promised not to let you hook up with anybody while you were wasted.’”

Jo rolled her eyes. “I said no hooking up with any strangers. I know you’re strange, but that doesn’t really count.”

Charlie smiled at her. “Well, you are probably the hottest girl in here.” Jo looked around at the grizzled inhabitants of the almost empty roadhouse and snorted. “But I still wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy. I think you totally owe me dinner and a movie before I put out.” She winked. “Now, come on. It’s time for me to haul your ass out of here.”

Charlie stood and reached to help Jo up, but Jo brushed away the assistance.

“Dude. I’m good. It’s been hours. How much of a light-weight do you think I am?”

Charlie shrugged. “All I know about drinking I learned from Buffy, and it is this: small blondes drinking heavily always ends badly—no exceptions. And I’m totally not in the mood for giant snakes or cavewoman antics tonight.”

“Fuck you.” Jo staggered slightly and laughed. “I’m not Buffy. I’m not fucking Veronica Mars. What is with you and comparing me to fictional high school girls? Do you have a fetish I should know about? Should I be investing in a cheerleading costume?”

Charlie stopped walking and blushed bright red. “I’m going to not answer that on the grounds that you are drunk, and I currently have insufficient blood flow to my brain.” She bit her lip, whined, and stamped her foot. “Damn it! If I wasn’t responsible for getting you home right now I would _so_ be in my bunk.”

Jo turned and winked as she walked past Charlie. “Oh, princess, what have you gotten yourself into?” She grinned and walked backwards straight into a table, knocking over three chairs in the process. They both collapsed into a fit of giggles, to the confusion of the rest of the patrons.

The next day, Jo called Charlie in the early afternoon.

“You really are a dork, aren’t you?”

Charlie snorted. “And you just now figured that out? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of detective?”

“Oh, I knew. This just takes it to whole new levels. I mean, thanks for getting me home and all, and the aspirin and water by my bed were a welcome touch this morning, but a poem? Seriously? When did you even have time to write this thing?”

“Eh. You were passed out, and I was kinda wired. I write quickly when I’ve got the inspiration. Was the paper with the gold embellishments too much? I considered the classic ‘Will you go out with me? Check one.’ format, but thought that might be a bit juvenile for your tastes . . .”

“But a love poem seemed just right to you?” Jo asked.

“Oh, honey, that was just an invitation. When I write you a love poem, you’ll know it.”

“So what exactly are you inviting me to? The poem wasn’t exactly clear on the details.”

Charlie was silent for a minute. “Well, when I imagined this, our first date was always something epic, like a carriage ride through the city followed by a hot air balloon ride or dinner on a yacht serenaded by a woodwind quintet while a skywriter spells out my declaration of love . . .”

“Dude. I can’t even . . . We live in a small college town for fuck’s sake. Horse drawn carriages? Not really an option. And just in general . . . I think the phrase is ‘a world of no.’ I’d rather just hang out on your couch with pizza and a six pack.”

“What about dinner at a nice restaurant and a night at the symphony?” Charlie offered.

“Or just dinner and a movie? I vaguely recall you mentioning something like that last night,” Jo replied.

“Fine, as long as I get to pick the restaurant..”

Jo sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I have an early shift today, so I’m free tonight if that works for you.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice, and don’t worry about the cost; I’ll pay for everything. I’m gonna prove to you that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Oh god, I’m so going to regret this, aren’t I?”


	3. Hymns Upon Your Lips

Charlie showed up at Jo’s door three minutes early and waited until it was exactly seven o’clock to press the doorbell. After it rang she waited for a couple of minutes, fiddling with her jacket and biting her lip, before she reached out and pressed it again.

“Coming! Sorry! Just gimme a minute!” Charlie heard uneven footsteps, and then Jo finally pulled open the door, out of breath and only wearing one shoe.

“Oh, man.” Jo leaned against the doorframe and lifted her foot as she tried to fasten her other shoe. “I really am sorry for making you wait, it’s just . . . well . . . you’re usually at least fifteen minutes late, and I was kinda counting on having that buffer time. No offense, I just wasn’t expecting you to be . . . on . . . time? Hello? Earth to Charlie?”

Charlie stood frozen in place with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. At Jo’s confusion she closed her mouth with a snap and swallowed hard.

“Hey, Jo. I’m fine. I mean, you’re fine. I mean, wow. You look amazing.”

Jo blushed, then snorted, shook her head, and stepped past Charlie towards the street.

“Yeah, well, this—“ Jo indicated her stylish up-do, short, black cocktail dress, and strappy black heels. “Is what you get when you tell me to dress up. And I mean that literally; any time I go somewhere nice I will be wearing this exact same outfit.”

Charlie laughed. “Is that a promise?”

“Damn straight.”

As they got in the car, Charlie asked, “So what was the original occasion?”

“What?”

“What did you buy the dress and shoes for in the first place? Was it prom or something?”

Jo scoffed. “You wish. No, I bought it for a case, though I guess I’ve worn it for funerals more than anything else at this point.”

“Oh, sorry, guess I shouldn’t have asked, huh?”

“It’s fine. Whatever.” Jo looked out the car window for a moment, then turned to look Charlie up and down. “What about your, uh, outfit? What was its original purpose?”

Charlie was wearing fitted, chartreuse capri pants, pale blue ballet flats, a dark blue silk blouse, a burgundy suit jacket, and a matching burgundy bowtie. The burgundy clashed rather dramatically with her auburn hair.

“Uh, this?” Charlie glanced at Jo and then looked back at the road. “I mean, not this specifically,— I didn’t know if this was every actually going to happen—but yeah. This is my first time wearing this stuff. I got most of it on a shopping trip with Genesis, but don’t tell her I told you. She said she didn’t want any responsibility for it because the color combination was ‘an assault to the senses and a sin against humanity.’”

Jo laughed. “Okay. I guess it’ll be our secret then.”

Charlie grinned.

Much to Charlie’s dismay, the nicest restaurant in town was a mid-level Italian chain filled with elderly couples celebrating anniversaries, high school kids celebrating prom, and college kids who had talked their visiting parents into taking them out for a nice meal. Jo rolled her eyes when Charlie ordered “the rigatoni con la Pajata and a bottle of your finest vintage”—and grimaced in disgust when Charlie explained that the dish was made of calf intestines—but she didn’t let it dampen her enthusiastic enjoyment of her own four-cheese lasagna.

“So, I shared way too much last night,” Jo began. “And now I think it’s your turn. Tell me, Charlie, what should I know about you that I don’t already?”

Charlie pursed her lips in mock concentration. “Well, I’d like to think I’m good, giving, and game. I can be a giggler. I’m down with light to moderate bdsm and am definitely a switch, but I’m not really into significant pain in either role; it’s more about trust and power exchange for me, you know? I’m a big fan of consensual somnophilia and non-con role play. My turn offs include scat play, watersports, and any use of the words ‘slut’ and ‘whore.’”

Jo’s face turned bright red. She pressed her lips into a thin, tight line and clenched her hands together on the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“God, Charlie,” she hissed. “That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it. We’re in public for Christ’s sake.” She looked around as much as she could without moving her head at all. “I think people _heard_ you.”

Charlie grinned evilly and leaned towards Jo. Her index and middle finger traced gently from the inside of Jo’s elbow down her forearm and then over the seam where her hands pressed together. Charlie covered Jo’s hands with her own and whispered, “I may also be a bit of an exhibitionist.”

Jo coughed and shifted in her seat, but there was a small smile on her face as she pulled her hands away.

“Anyway, I was thinking more along the lines of telling me about your past. I don’t know anything about your family, where you grew up, what your life was like. Do you have cousins? Siblings? Pets? It’s kind of ridiculous that we’ve known each other almost a year, and in some ways I don’t know anything about you.”

Charlie shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I’m an only child. No pets, no extended family. I lost both parents to a car crash when I was twelve. I was in the system for a while; that really sucked. Then I got out, learned to take care of myself, and things got better.”

This time Jo reached out to hold Charlie’s hand. “Hey. That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Charlie pulled her hand back to tuck her hair behind her ear. “It happens, you know? Life pretty much sucks nine times out of ten. That’s why fiction’s so great: epic romances, daring adventures, and the good guys always win in the end. Sign me up for escapism any day.”

“And yet you still love Joss Whedon?” Jo prompted.

“Always and forever! The happy ending doesn’t feel earned without a solid dose of agonizing pain along the way. And, honestly, sometimes it helps to see my favorite characters suffer heartbreak and still keep fighting. It makes me think maybe I can do it, too.”

They sat in silence until the waiter arrived with their dessert order, but Jo reached her leg out under the table and pressed her ankle against Charlie’s.

After finishing her cheesecake Charlie sat back with a pleased sigh. “So, what movie are you in the mood for? There’s not a whole lot out . . . ‘Iron Man’ was amazing; I’d totally go see that again. Or maybe you’d rather see something like ‘Made of Honor’ of ‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’? I think they’re still in theaters . . .”

“Actually,” Jo said. “I may have a confession, but you have to promise not to gloat or pout.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Cross my heart.”

“You might— _might_ —have converted me into a t.v. fan. Would it be okay if we just go back to your place and finish the season of Battlestar?”

Charlie tilted her head, pretended to think, and then nodded slowly. “I think I could probably survive that. I mean, if it’s what you really want.”

When they entered Charlie’s apartment Jo bent to slip off her heels. Turning her head to look up at Charlie, she smiled and said, “Much better, and now you can finally take off that ridiculous jacket.”

“Hey!” Charlie whined, “I like my jacket.” She started slowly shrugging out of it anyway. Jo straightened up and stepped into her space, backing Charlie up against the wall.

“It’s ridiculous,” Jo insisted firmly, pushing it the rest of the way off of Charlie’s arms. She untied the bowtie and slid it from around Charlie’s neck, then began slowly unbuttoning Charlie’s blouse. Charlie’s hands caught Jo’s when she reached for the third button.

“Why, Miss Joanna Beth Harvelle, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe.” Jo looked up at her and smirked. “Is it working?”

“Definitely.” Charlie cupped the side of Jo’s face and pulled her in for a kiss.

Jo leaned into the movement, opened her mouth to Charlie’s tongue, and finished unbuttoning Charlie’s shirt. She slid her hands under the fabric and pushed it open, grabbing Charlie firmly by the hips and pressing the full lengths of their bodies together.

Charlie whimpered and dropped her head back against the wall. Jo kissed down her neck and brought one hand up to Charlie’s breast, her thumb teasing the nipple through the bra.

“Jo. Oh, shit. _Jo_.” Charlie clutched at Jo’s neck, shoulders, hips, waist—unsure where to put her hands. She spread her legs just enough for Jo’s thigh to slide between them and arched her hips, searching for more friction.

Jo bent down slightly, separating their hips but putting her at the right height to kiss and nip at Charlie’s breast. She slipped it out of its cup and ghosted over the nipple, licking and teasing at it with her lips and teeth before finally taking it into her mouth.

Charlie whined. Jo pulled away slightly and grinned up at her. Then Charlie grabbed Jo and flipped their positions, pressing Jo flat against the wall. She caught Jo’s left leg between her own and pulled Jo’s right leg up, making Jo’s skirt ride up above her hips and sliding her hand along the underside of Jo’s bare thigh.

They ground together. Jo’s hand, buried in Charlie’s hair, pulled her head to the side so that Jo could suck and bite at the base of her neck. Charlie’s hand reached Jo’s ass. She squeezed the firm muscle, then traced the silky line of Jo’s thong down to where it was completely soaked through.

“Damn, that’s hot.” Charlie bit her lip. She pressed her thigh harder against Jo and stroked along her opening, pressing the wet fabric just inside. Jo trembled. Charlie worked her fingers harder. Jo pulled Charlie closer, digging her heel into the back of Charlie’s leg and grabbing at her shoulders. Her hips stuttered and she sucked hard on Charlie’s neck as she came, then fell back against the wall.

Charlie grinned, brushed Jo’s hair out of her eyes, and leaned forward to pepper her face with kisses. Jo closed her eyes and accepted the kisses for a moment. Then she smirked, braced herself against the wall and took Charlie firmly by the hips, pulling her down until she was riding Jo’s thigh.

Charlie’s mouth opened in surprise, and she moaned, “Oh, fuck.”

At first she let herself be guided with her hands on Jo’s shoulders for balance, but soon it was too much, and her hips started grinding instinctively—rough and frantic. Jo slid a hand down, adding extra pressure in just the right spot.

“Oh, fuck. Right there. _Oh, fuck. Jo!”_ Charlie shouted as her orgasm overtook her. She collapsed against Jo, nuzzling her throat. She smiled lazily and kept her face hidden. “You think any of my neighbors heard that?”

Jo snorted. “Only the ones with ears.”

Charlie pulled back and made a face. “Shit. Well, that’s gonna make for some awkward laundry room conversations.”

Jo smirked. “At least they’ll all remember my name.” She shoved at Charlie’s shoulder and straightened her dress. “So, uh, Battlestar?”

Charlie grinned as she buttoned the central buttons on her shirt. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

When they sat on the couch and the episode started it felt almost like every other time they had watched the show together. Then Jo lifted Charlie’s arm and tucked herself underneath it, turning sideways and bringing her bare feet up onto the couch to get comfortable. Charlie wrapped her free arm around Jo, idly tangled their fingers together, and sent a silent thanks to Netflix for the blessing of auto-play.

Charlie thought that a sunny café on a Saturday afternoon was a weird place to talk about kidnappings, rapes, and murder, but the bagel sandwiches were tasty and the wi-fi was fast, so she guessed she couldn’t complain. Sitting right next to Jo, their legs pressed together from hip to knee, didn’t hurt either.

“So, I get that this guy did horrible things, but I’m a little confused about what you need from me. I mean, he’s in police custody, and he confessed, right?”

Jo leaned her elbows onto the table. “Here’s the thing: there’s this weird procedure that he did to all of his victims. After they bled out he painted this weird mark on their stomachs using their blood.”

“Eww. Gross.” Charlie made a face. “I so did not need to know that.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a such baby. Trust me, there are way worse details involved here—which I promise to not share, as long as you actually let me finish for once.”

“Fine. Be my guest.” Charlie gestured for Jo to continue.

“Where it gets really weird is that I remember seeing that same exact procedure with the same symbol in a case in Florida a few years ago. I didn’t get involved at the time because it looked like another open and shut case: six victims, all young women, the confessed murderer caught with their desecrated corpses.”

“So what? You think this is a copycat killing?”

“Maybe. Or maybe there’s—how do I put this? Maybe there’s someone else involved? An accomplice who’s really the mastermind behind the whole thing? I need to know if there are any other similar cases so I can see if there’s a pattern. Can you create some sort of search program to look through the major police and F.B.I. databases to get me a list of cases that fit the same general description in terms of perpetrator and victims?”

At Charlie’s raised eyebrow Jo continued, “Yeah, I know that’ll be a ridiculous number of cases, but at least it’ll give me a list to start with. I can narrow it down from there.”

Charlie steepled her fingers and pretended to think. “Well . . . Writing a program to hack into that wide of a range of systems isn’t exactly easy . . . but since it’s you I think I can whip something up. Actually, I’ll do you one better: if you give me a copy of the symbol—not on a dead body if at all possible—I’ll have the program search for approximate matches. There might be a couple false positives, and there’s a small chance of missing something relevant if they never uploaded any photos, but it’ll still be light years ahead of the alternative. What do you say?”

“Seriously!?! You can do that?” Jo’s jaw dropped, and then she grinned. “Charlie, did anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”

Charlie shrugged. “Once or twice.”

Jo leaned over to whisper in Charlie’s ear, “They ever tell you it’s all kinds of sexy?”

Charlie turned her head and bent forward to whisper in Jo’s ear, “Maybe a couple of times, but it sounds better coming from you.”

“Dork,” Jo muttered and kissed her.

After a minute Jo pulled away reluctantly, and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “So, Madame Genius, any idea how long it’ll take you to put together the program and run it?”

“Hmmm. Maybe a week and a half? Maybe two? When can you get me the picture?”

“It’s right here.” Jo reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of paper with a symbol drawn on it: a complicated, curving shape almost like a capital D embellished with intricate loops, a cross, and a devil’s tail.

Charlie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Jo looked at her in confusion.

“That symbol. It’s the seal of frakking Asmodeus—one of the Lords of Hell.”

“What!?!”

“I know. It’s crazy, right? What kind of dysfunctional assholes go around painting the symbols for D&D villains on dead people? As if the role-playing community didn’t have enough problems with people thinking we’re devil worshippers.”

“D&D.” Jo nodded slowly. “Right. Of course. It’s a symbol from a character in a game.”

“Well, the symbol’s actually from this crazy 17th century grimoire, but the character has been in basically every version of Dungeons and Dragons since the first edition. My D&D group a few years back did this campaign where the dungeon master was a history major and got super into his own brand of historical accuracy.”

“Wow. That’s actually really helpful, thanks.” Charlie looked at her in confusion, and Jo hurried to explain, “I mean, in terms of understanding motive and—uh—figuring out what connection the killers might have had to each other, that kind of thing. Just having a name to start looking for is a great place to start.”

“Okay, cool.” Charlie smiled and slipped her hand into Jo’s. “So, wanna go back to my place and tell me more about how brilliant and helpful I am?”

Jo pulled away gently and stood up. “Actually, I really need to make a few calls to follow up on this, and the sooner you start setting up that program the sooner we’ll know if there are more cases, right?”

“Oh. Right. Of course. Rain check then?” Charlie tried not to look disappointed.

Jo leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Absolutely. Dinner tomorrow night at your apartment? We can order Thai food.”

“It’s a date.”

Charlie was sitting at her normal booth with Genesis when it happened. Genesis had been mocking her for staring at Jo all night like a lovesick puppy, but if Charlie had been looking anywhere else at the moment she almost certainly would have missed how it started.

Classes had just resumed after break and everyone’s workload was fairly light, so the Blue Elephant was even more crowded than on a normal trivia night. Every seat was taken, every booth was filled to overflowing—except the one shared by Charlie and Genesis, who had chased off three different groups of aspiring seat mates—and there were extra people milling around the bar. Charlie could see Jo’s blonde hair weaving carefully between people, blocked occasionally by a random guy or tall girl but always popping back into view.

Jo was at the bar, relaying an order to the bartender. Two guys behind her got into a playful shoving match. One pushed a little too hard and the other one slipped and fell into Jo, pressing her down against the bar. In a split second she had him pinned against a pillar with her arm across his chest and a knife at his throat.

All of the other bar patrons around the two stared in shock and pressed themselves away from the confrontation. Charlie immediately shoved her way through the crowd to get to Jo’s side. She hesitantly put a hand on Jo’s shoulder.

Jo’s breathing was shaky, and when she turned her face to Charlie her eyes were wild.

“Jo? Hey, Jo. It’s okay. Come on, Jo. Give me the knife.” Charlie held out her hand.

“Charlie?” Jo looked at the boy, who was terrified and silent, then back at Charlie, and her eyes refocused. She looked up at the boy again, pulled the knife away, and released him. “Oh, god.” The crowd parted before her as she stumbled out of the room.

“Jo?” Charlie hesitated and looked after her.

Genesis appeared at her shoulder. “I’ll deal with the drama here. You go get your girl.”

Charlie smiled at her in gratitude and ran after Jo.

She found Jo standing in the storeroom leaning with her forearms against the wall and her head resting against her crossed wrists. Even from a distance Charlie could see that she was trembling. When she got closer she could see that her cheeks were streaked with tears.

“Oh, honey.” Charlie took Jo by the shoulders and gently guided her to sit down on a folding chair. Jo leaned her forearms on her legs, and Charlie gently rubbed her back. Gradually Jo’s breathing steadied, and the shaking eased.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie asked.

Jo shook her head.

“Okay. I mean . . .” Charlie hesitated then continued. “I think we need to talk a little bit eventually, but for now . . . Let’s just get you better, okay?”

Jo nodded without looking at her.

“Do you want me to get you anything? I can go get some water . . .” Charlie started to step away.

“No. Stay. Please?” Jo asked.

“Of course.” Charlie knelt on the floor in front of Jo and tentatively put her hands over Jo’s tightly clasped ones. “As long as you need.”

Jo slid down from her chair, wrapped her arms around Charlie, and hid her face against Charlie’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Charlie drove them both to Jo’s apartment. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until Jo pulled her down to sit next to her on the couch. But then Jo couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She kept changing position—leaning against Charlie one moment and propped against the opposite arm of the couch the next. After a couple of minutes she got up, went to her room, and came back in jeans and a loose, long-sleeved flannel shirt that was buttoned all the way up. She went to the sink, rolled up her sleeves, and scrubbed fiercely at some dirty dishes. Charlie sat quietly on the couch, keeping her eyes focused on her hands in her lap. Finally, Jo walked back over and perched on the edge of the chair directly across from Charlie, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“Look—” Jo said.

“No, wait.” Charlie interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I was wrong. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I want to help however I can. Your health is what’s important, and if that means I need to mind my own business then I’ll just have to deal with that.”

“No, you deserve—“ Jo pressed her lips together. “I mean, I want you to know what happened, I do. I just wish there was a way to get to that point without having to actually talk about it, you know?”

Charlie gave a small, sympathetic smile.

Jo took a deep breath. “So, there was this guy. I guess you could call him a family friend? He showed up at the bar in Minnesota just as I was closing up for the night. It was a little weird, because I hadn’t told anyone where I was working, but he and his brother do the same—uh—detective work that I do, so it wasn’t that surprising. What was strange was that he was alone; he and his brother are usually joined at the hip. Then he started hitting on me and saying all sorts of shit that was clearly meant to piss me off.”

Jo clenched her jaw and shook her head, then continued. “It was weird and infuriating and creepy as hell and then—“ Her voice broke and her hands were shaking. “Before I knew it he was on me.” She swallowed. “He had me pinned against the fucking bar, and I tried to fight, but he was just so damn _big_. His hands were everywhere, and—and I couldn’t fucking _do_ anything about it. I thought he was going to—“ She pressed her lips together and looked up at the ceiling.

“Oh, god. Jo—“ Charlie reached out for her hands but stopped when Jo flinched away. “But . . . he didn’t—?”

“No.” Jo grimaced. “He tied me up, and he threatened to gut me with a fucking hunting knife, but at least he didn’t fucking rape me, right?”

Jo’s shuddering breaths were loud in the silence.

“So,” Charlie ventured, “What happened to this psychopathic asshole? Is he dead? In prison? If you ask me prison’s too fucking good for him.”

Jo sighed and scrubbed at her face with her hands. “No, he’s . . . It’s complicated. It wasn’t really his fault.”

“Like hell it wasn’t! What the fuck does that even mean!?!”

“Charlie, just . . . just don’t, okay? I said it’s complicated, and I meant it. He wasn’t in control of his actions, and—knowing him—he probably feels plenty shitty about it anyway.”

“What do you mean, probably?” Charlie’s voice was quieter but still furious.

Jo looked away.

“So it wasn’t his fault, and he feels awful, but he hasn’t actually bothered to apologize?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “See, this is why I didn’t want to do this. You don’t get it, I can’t explain, and honestly, all of Sam’s shit is completely besides the point. I just . . . I just wanted to explain why I just freaked the fuck out without getting a fucking lecture on how I should have dealt with shit, but apparently that’s too much to ask!”

“Hey. Hold on a second, Jo. That’s not fair. I want to help—God help me, I’m even pretty sure I can help—but it’s a lot to process, so give me a fucking minute, okay?”

“Fine.” Jo snapped, slouching down in the chair and crossing her arms.

“Fine.”

The silence stretched out painfully.

Charlie bit her lip. “Can we talk about what you’re going to do moving forward, to try to keep this from happening again?”

Jo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” She opened her eyes. “Any recommendations?”

“Well,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure you were having a panic attack, and from what you just told me it’s probably PTSD-related. Seeing a psychiatrist and/or psychologist seems like a pretty obvious first step.”

“Yeah, there’s no way in hell that’s gonna happen. What else’ve you got?”

Charlie gaped at her. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me? Look, I know this is the first time this happened, and you want to believe it’s a one-time thing, but I’m sorry—it probably isn’t. You went through some serious trauma, and unless you get help dealing with it the panic attacks are just going to get worse and worse.”

“Fuck you. Don’t talk to me like I’m some stupid, little kid. Obviously nothing I’ve been doing has stopped the attacks. That’s why I’m trying to ask for your help—which isn’t easy for me, by the way.”

“Wait, attacks? _Plural_? This has happened to you before?”

Jo looked away and shrugged. “Well, not the almost stabbing a guy part, but the feeling shaky and freaked-out and having trouble breathing? Yeah, a couple of times now.”

Charlie shook her head. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. The first time I had a panic attack I was on the phone that same day trying to find a doctor to make sure it would never, ever happen again. But you? You’ve had multiple panic attacks, and you _still_ don’t want to talk to a professional? How is that even . . . ? What reason could you possibly have?”

Jo pressed her lips together. “I don’t have health insurance, okay? And it’s not like I make enough at the bar to pay out of pocket.”

“That’s it?” Charlie relaxed and grinned. “Dude. Charlie Bradbury, hacker extraordinaire, at your service. I can get you set up with some good-old, quasi-legal insurance in no time.”

“No! Shit! That’s not—“

“What? It’s no big deal, honest. I mean, it’s basically just duplicating what I already have set up for myself. And I promise all the companies getting exploited are evil conglomerates that totally deserve it.” She shook her head. “God, now I feel like an tool. If I’d actually thought about your job situation for ten seconds . . . We should have set this up ages ago.” She grabbed her bag from behind the couch and pulled out her laptop.

“Fuck! No, Charlie . . . Damn it!” Jo reached over and slammed the laptop closed. “Would you just stop and fucking listen to me for a minute? I said, ‘No!’”

Charlie looked up at her in confusion. “But . . . you can’t seriously have an issue with a little insurance fraud? Like I said, the system’s so fucked up anyway—“

“First of all, I can and do have a fucking issue with insurance fraud. Mom always said it was a slippery slope, and that’s one thing I agree with her on one hundred percent. I grew up around lots of people who played fast and loose with the law, and there is no way in hell that I’m gonna join their number.”

“But if you _need_ it—“

Jo snorted. “Every single one of those guys would say he only did what he needed to do, but need turns into convenience awfully quick.” She sighed and sat back down. “Besides, even if I had insurance I wouldn’t go to a fucking shrink.”

Charlie was silent for a moment.

She nodded, looked down, and then looked back at Jo. “So, when you gave the insurance as a reason all of five minutes ago you were trying to what? Spare my feelings?”

Jo half shrugged. “Kinda, yeah. Or at least spare us both an awkward, unnecessary conversation.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Gonna need more than that, Jo.”

“I’m not totally oblivious. I’ve seen the pills you take every night. It didn’t take me long to figure out what they were for—girl detective, remember?” Her attempted smile withered under Charlie’s glare.

Jo continued, “So, I assume that you see somebody for the prescription, and probably to talk as well. And that’s fine. It’s great that it works for you. I’m not judging you for it, honest. But I can’t . . . It’s just not something I can do. There’s too much I’d have to lie about, too much that a random stranger could never understand. And, to be totally honest, part of me just fucking refuses to accept that I need that kind of help.”

“But Jo, the shit that happened to you . . . Anyone would need . . .”

“But that’s the thing you don’t get—that no one’s gonna get. The shit that happened to me is par for the fucking course for anyone who does what I do. At least half of the guys I served at the Roadhouse had been through worse, and you can bet none of them went whining to a random stranger with some fancy letters after his name. They shoved it down, gritted their teeth, and kept on working. And maybe they needed a bit more of the hard stuff in the evenings to calm their nerves. Maybe sometimes they woke up screaming. But that’s the price they paid to do the work. And just ‘cause I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t do the same fucking thing.”

“Wow. That’s . . . some really fucked up, macho bullshit.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jo shrugged. “Welcome to my life. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna change, though.”

“It could.” Charlie insisted.

“Charlie—“

“Jo. Come on. Are you seriously going to let the opinions of some stupid dude-bros who barely know you have that much control over your life?”

“No, but I’m not going to let some obnoxious geek girl who barely knows me control it either.”

“Oh.” Charlie sat back and blinked in shock.

Jo clenched her jaw and looked away. “I’m sorry. That was . . . I didn’t mean that, and it was shitty to say, but it’s my fucking life Charlie. You said your piece—hell, you might even be right—but I’ve made my decision, and you’re just going to have to fucking deal with it.”

“So what do you want from me, Jo?” Charlie bit her lip. “Am I supposed to listen to what happened and just say nothing? Do nothing? Wait for it to happen again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe you’re supposed to listen and not judge? To sympathize and share what worked for you without assuming that it’ll work the same for me? Give me space when I need it and support when I ask?”

Charlie sighed. “That’s a lot easier said than done.”

“Does that mean you won’t do it?”

“It means I’ll try my best.”

“I guess that’s fair. Thanks.” Jo nodded to herself. “Can I have some of that space now?”

“Sure, I guess. I mean . . . Yeah, of course.” Charlie shoved her stuff back in her bag and got up to go, pausing at the door. “Hey, Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“You still my girl?”

Jo looked at her thoughtfully. “That’s a quote, right? I don’t remember the context.”

“Oh, uh, Angel says it to Buffy when she asks for a break after he pretends to be evil. I guess it’s kind of a reassurance that their current issues don’t mean the end of the relationship.”

“And what does Buffy say back?”

“Jo, you don’t have to–“

“What does she say?”

“Always.” Charlie said quietly, her eyes never leaving Jo’s face.

Jo looked away and nodded to herself. “I like that.” She looked back at Charlie and smiled softly. “Always.”

Charlie smiled back. She slung her bag over her shoulder, turned, and left. 


	4. Just Can't Call Your Soul Your Own

Charlie sprawled on the couch with her computer on her lap and bit her lip, trying to convince herself that she didn’t mind Jo’s choice to spend her night off working on her research. It wasn’t that the shared alone time bothered Charlie; she was perfectly happy to amuse herself online. It wasn’t even how grudgingly Jo had agreed to give up thirty minutes to eat dinner together. It was the fact that Jo had insisted on doing the same thing with all of her free time ever since Charlie had given her the results of the Asmodeus search two weeks ago. And the fact that Charlie was becoming more and more convinced that Jo was wasting her time looking for pattern that didn’t exist.

“Hah! I got it! Yes!” Jo’s excitement startled Charlie out of her thoughts.

“Huh? What? You actually found a pattern?”

Jo narrowed her eyes. “Hey! Don’t sound so surprised!”

“Sorry. I just mean—you were looking for so long. I figured you would have found the pattern already if it existed.”

Jo shrugged. “There’s always a pattern for stuff like this; you just have to figure out the right variables to look at.”

“I see . . .” Charlie moved to stand next to her and look down at the table covered with printouts and newspaper clippings. “And those variable include petty crime, temperature fluctuations, and animal mutilation? Jo, you’ve got to know how crazy that sounds.”

“Yeah, it sounds unlikely, but I’ve seen stuff like this before. We should be able to use it to predict where and when the next killings will be.”

“Why the hell would a serial killer time his murders based on the weather?”

“Because he’s crazy?” Charlie looked skeptical, and Jo shrugged. “Fine. I don’t know why. I just know it’s something that happens sometimes on cases like this. And whether or not you think it makes sense you can’t deny that the pattern is there: reports of unusual numbers of dead birds starting about a month before the killings, a week of unseasonably high temperatures just before the abductions, and a temperature drop of at least 25 degrees a few days before the estimated time of death. It happened the exact same way in every one of the ten cases that showed up on your search. And you think that’s what? A coincidence?”

Charlie sighed. “Honestly? It’s probably result of overfitting.”

“What?”

“Overfitting. Or, well, maybe technically spurious correlation—whatever. Basically, if you look hard enough at a given set of data you’ll eventually find all sorts of patterns, but they don’t necessarily mean anything, especially when you try to apply them to new data, like predicting when the next killing will happen.”

Jo narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s like—“ Charlie tapped her fingers against her leg in thought. “Say I gave you a group of ten guys and told you they were all murderers. And I also gave you access to a ton of random information about their lives. Maybe it turns out they all have the letter ‘r’ in their middle names. Maybe they were all born on a Thursday. Or maybe they all hate cottage cheese. If you look long and hard enough it’s inevitable that you’ll find something they have in common. That doesn’t mean a new person who fits that description is likely to be a murderer. Get it?”

“And you’re saying my weather patterns are random and meaningless—like a Thursday birthday—because you just can’t believe that I know what I’m talking about.” Jo scowled.

“No, it’s just . . . I mean, seriously Jo, the ‘signs’ you’re talking about aren’t even particularly uncommon. We just had a heat wave last week with a cold front today. Throw in last month’s avian flu uptick and we could be the next murder spot.”

“Oh, shit. You’re right.” Jo pulled open her computer and started looking up local weather statistics.

“What? No, Jo, you’re totally missing the point.”

“No, Charlie, _you’re_ missing the point.” Jo pressed her lips together. “Look at it this way: if I’m wrong we waste our time looking for something that isn’t there; if you’re wrong people are going to die. Even if you’re 90% sure you’re right, do you really want to take that chance?”

Charlie looked at Jo for a minute, sighed, and shook her head. “Fine. Whatever. How can I help?”

“Thanks.” Jo smiled in gratitude. “Well, all of the other abductions have taken place around school breaks. The victims’ roommates received emails saying that the victims had a sudden change of plans and were going home early, while their families received similar emails claiming that they needed to stay on campus longer. In most cases the victims weren’t reported missing for a couple of days. Can you figure out if some students here might already be missing?”

“Any suggestions on how I could do that?”

“I don’t know. Look at attendance? See who’s absent this week?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I’m pretty sure most college classes don’t take attendance. And even if they did, it’s the week of Thanksgiving. There are going to be a ton of students out for the holiday.”

“Right. Fuck.” Jo bit her lip. “What about the emails? There’s got to be something here you can work with.” She grabbed the pile of printed-out emails and spread them in front of Charlie.

“Huh. I’m definitely seeing some phrasing similarities. Maybe if I combine that with the relevant key words and assume that the emails were sent from the school server in the last couple of days . . .”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll still probably need to look through the likely candidates individually. And that’s after I hack the school’s server.”

Jo nodded and looked intensely at Charlie’s screen.

“And I’ll probably be more effective without you looking over my shoulder.”

“Oh, right.” Jo grimaced.

“Hey,” Charlie reassured her. “It’s fine. I know that it’s urgent, and I’ve got this. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I have something. It should only take a couple of hours. Don’t you have stuff you need to do to get ready?”

“Yeah, okay.” Jo nodded distractedly. “You’ll tell me if you find anything?”

“Right away.”

“Good,” Jo muttered to herself as she walked into her bedroom.

Charlie heard her pacing back and forth, and then she heard fragments of a phone call. She tried to stay focused on her hacking, but Jo’s side of the conversation got progressively louder.

“Yes, I’m sure. All of the signs line up, and the research says November is his ‘month of strength.’ I think this is going to be a big one, Bobby.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m waiting for those two to come take over! I’ve been working on this for months! They can find their own shit to deal with!”

“I don’t give a damn about biblical seals. It’s my fucking case!”

“Go ahead! Tell my mother! She’s got no right to say anything when she’s . . . “

“I’ve _got_ a plan!”

“Fish heart and liver, an incantation—What’s your definition of a plan?”

“Oh, bullshit. You know you’ve faced worse with less!”

“Fine! Send out whoever you damn well please, but I’m not waiting for them. As soon as I know where the bastard is I’m going after him!”

“He already has the girls, Bobby! Every minute counts!”

“Well, they’d better drive fast, then. Bye!”

The pacing picked back up again, and then Jo sat back down in front of her own computer. She scowled and started typing sporadically, aggressively avoiding looking at Charlie. Charlie stretched her arms above her head, rolled her head to one side and the other, and kept working.

__

“I got it!” Charlie shouted.

Jo perked up from where she’d been slouched in her chair lightly dozing. “Yeah? You found the emails? Does that mean you know the new victims’ names?”

“Better than that! All of the new emails came from the same frakking IP address! I traced it back. I know the guy’s name! I’ve got his mother-fucking address!”

“Charlie, you’re a genius!” Jo grabbed Charlie and kissed her.

Charlie blushed. “I know.” She swallowed. “So, his name’s David Hiddleman. He’s a grad student with a small house on the south side of campus.”

“Address?” Jo held out her hand.

“Just a sec.” Charlie scribbled it down, started to give it to Jo, and pulled it back. “Wait. What’s the plan here?”

“Well, it’s like—” Jo checked the clock. “Three a.m. He’s probably asleep. I’ll scope the place out, break in, rescue the girls, and, uh, deal with him.”

“’Deal with him’? What the hell does that mean?”

Jo rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Look, Charlie. I know what I’m doing here. I know how to take care of myself. Thank you for your help—I seriously couldn’t have done it without you—but now it’s my turn.”

“But . . . Can’t you wait a little bit? Find out more about this guy? Maybe give your backup a chance to arrive?”

“Backup? Oh. You heard me on the phone.”

“Yeah.” Charlie looked slightly guilty. “I wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything, but I really think having someone to go with you sounds like a good thing.”

“Yeah, sure it’d be nice, but did you hear the part where I said I couldn’t afford to wait? Those girls’ lives are at stake!”

Charlie frowned. “I heard you say that, but I call bullshit. I’ve seen the autopsy reports; the victims were locked up for four to six days before they were killed. Based on the emails these girls were just kidnapped yesterday, maybe the day before at the earliest. If this killer follows the same pattern as the others he won’t kill them for at least a couple more days; waiting a couple of hours for backup won’t make a difference.”

Jo glared. “If he follows the same pattern— _if_. There’s no guarantee that he will, and even if there was, I’d still go tonight.”

Charlie started to snap back at her, then stopped at the look on Jo’s face.

“I’ve been there: trapped in the dark by something horrible. Every minute in captivity means that many more nightmares for the rest of your life. I’m not going to leave them trapped one second longer than I have to.” She stood and grabbed the paper from Charlie’s hand. “Look, Bobby has my address. If the cavalry shows up here you can tell them where to find me.”

“What if I go with you?”

“No!” Jo yelled, then softened slightly. “I know you want to help, but you would only make things harder. Stay here. Please.”

Charlie bit her lip and crossed her arms. “Call me when you get to his place and put your phone on speaker. I want to hear everything. If things go to shit I reserve the right to call 911.”

“Charlie, seriously, the police would just be in over their heads. Don’t call them.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

Jo started to respond then sighed, nodded tightly, and turned to leave.

“Jo—?”

“Charlie, I really need to—“

“I know, just . . . kiss for luck?”

Jo turned reluctantly and Charlie grabbed her, kissed her, and hugged her tight. She kissed her hard one more time before she pulled away.

“Call me!” She shouted as Jo left.

“Yeah, yeah.” There was a small smile on Jo’s face as she stepped out the door.

Charlie fretted for the next fifteen minutes—alternating between confidence that Jo couldn’t possibly be at the guy’s house yet and the terrifying certainty that she wouldn’t actually call when she arrived. At the twenty-minute mark she started flipping the phone over and over in her hands and debating the pros and cons of just calling Jo herself when the phone rang. She fumbled with it for a tense couple of seconds before she managed to answer.

“Jo? Is that you?”

“I said I’d call, didn’t I?” Jo hissed. “Now, keep your voice down.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. What’s the situation?”

“I’m outside his house. Everything looks dark, but there’s a sign for some high-tech security system. HTS Incorportated? I can probably disable it, but I was wondering—“

“If I can mess with it remotely? Definitely. I should be able to rig it so they’ll never know it was anything but functional. Just give me a minute.” Charlie typed furiously. “Got it. You should be good to go.”

“Thanks.” Jo sighed. “Okay, I’m going in. I’ll put the phone on speaker, but I’m going to mute you, so you don’t give me away by accident. Remember, do tell whatever backup Bobby sends where to find me; don’t call 911.”

“No promises, princess. Take care of yourself.”

“Love you, too.”

Charlie could hear Jo get out of the car and quietly shut the door behind her. Then everything was quiet except for a few quiet clicks that Charlie guessed were Jo picking the lock to get into the house. Charlie strained to hear the smallest noise, but all she heard was the occasional creak that told her David Hiddleman probably had wooden floors. She looked at the blueprints she’d found online and tried to guess where Jo was searching—the basement? The garage? That weird room at the back of the house?

When she heard quiet moans and exclamations of surprise Charlie knew that Jo must have found the kidnapped girls.

Jo whispered, “Shhh. Hey. Hey, it’s okay. My name’s Jo. I’m here to rescue you, but you’ve got to be quiet, or he’ll hear you.”

Charlie could hear Jo doing something, but she couldn’t tell what. Somebody started to cough, and Jo began chanting in a foreign language—Charlie thought it sounded like it might have been Hebrew or Arabic.

After a couple of minutes there was a loud bang. The girls freaked out. Charlie heard a deep voice talking, but she couldn’t understand it over the screaming. She wasn’t even sure whether the man was speaking English. There were an escalating series of thuds and grunts, and through it all Charlie could just barely hear Jo’s voice—pausing occasionally and sounding more and more strained, but continuing to chant.

Then the deep voice let out a deafening howl, and the phone went dead.

Charlie stared at the phone in her hand, shaking slightly. She waited for a minute, then tried calling Jo’s cell—it went straight to voicemail. She tried calling one more time then said, “Fuck it,” and called 911.

Charlie rushed to the only hospital in town and waited impatiently for any news of what had happened to Jo. A fleet of ambulances arrived with their sirens blaring, throwing the E.R. into a flurry of activity. In the ensuing chaos Charlie managed to collect bits and pieces of information. The owner of the house was found dead on arrival—he’d apparently been dead for days, although people swore they’d seen and talked to him the day before. Twelve girls had been brought in with signs of prolonged restraint, malnutrition, and superficial lacerations. A thirteenth girl had been found unconscious at the scene. She had extensive bruising, a concussion, and three broken ribs, one of which had punctured a lung.

Jo woke up in a hospital room with a worried Charlie hovering at her side. She tilted her head in confusion and immediately winced, clearly regretting the movement.

“Damn it, Charlie! I told you I don’t have health insurance!”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged in relief ,and she rolled her eyes dramatically. “And _I_ told _you_ I could fix that. Sorry, princess, but a life threatening emergency trumps your moral qualms. Although I’m sure if you yell about it loudly enough you can get the nice doctors to revoke your coverage.”

“Maybe later.” Jo smiled weakly. “Thanks, I guess. Sorry for overreacting.”

“That’s cool. You can totally blame it on the meds. Though hold onto that forgiving attitude for me, ‘cause I might have done something you aren’t gonna like . . .”

“What?” Jo demanded. “What the hell did you do that’s worse than calling the hospital?”

Charlie bit her lip and started to back up slowly. “Well, you were out for a long time, and even though I gave them all of the paperwork, they still said they needed to talk to your legal next of kin. Technically she was already on her way as your backup . . .”

Jo stared at her in horror. “Oh, no. You didn’t. Charlie, you called _my mother_!?!”

Charlie’s eyes went wide and both women turned to look at the door as they heard yelling getting progressively louder.

“Where is she? _Where is she?_ Let me through! I need to see my daughter, _right now_!”

Ellen burst into the room, grabbed Jo by the shoulders, and shook her. “Joanna Beth Harvelle, don’t you ever, _ever_ do that to me again! What the _hell_ were you thinking, girl? You knew how high the stakes were, how dangerous this was, why the _fuck_ didn’t you wait for your goddamn backup? Were you fucking _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

“He was gonna kill ‘em, mom.” Tears spilled from the corners of Jo’s eyes. “As soon as we knew where they were I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t just let them die—I couldn’t.” She bit her lip and glared defiantly. “And I’m not sorry either. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, honey.” Ellen pulled Jo into a tight hug, and Jo’s hands slid up her mother’s back and clenched in the fabric of her shirt.

Much later, after some incredibly awkward small talk, Ellen reluctantly left her daughter’s side in search of drinkable coffee and something to eat that didn’t come from a vending machine.

“So.” Jo’s face was inscrutable.

“So.” Charlie leaned back against the wall with her thumbs in her pockets in a pose that attempted and completely failed to look casual.

“You called 911 on me.”

“Yup.”

“Even though I told you not to.”

“Yup.”

“Guess I kinda owe you my life then.”

Charlie shrugged.

“But you introduced yourself to my mom as my ‘friend.’ You haven’t touched me since I woke up. Hell, you’re standing about as far away from me as you can without actually going through that wall.” Jo took a slow breath. “Why do I suspect I’m not gonna like the explanation?”

Charlie just twitched her shoulder and looked at the floor.

“Come on, Charlie. Don’t do this to me. Where’s the blabbermouth with no filter that I fell in love with?”

Charlie winced at that and looked up to meet Jo’s eyes. Jo swallowed when she saw the tears gathering there.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Charlie’s hands clenched and unclenched in fists at her sides. “I’m sorry, Jo, I am, but I can’t fucking do this. I mean, I guess I kinda knew what you were doing was dangerous, but it was all theoretical, you know? Like a story. My very own badass, action heroine girlfriend. But yesterday, when I heard that noise and then the phone went dead . . .” Charlie’s shoulders started to shake.

“I’ve never been so goddamn scared in my life, Jo. And I can’t—I can’t handle that shit. You’re in the goddamn hospital, and you basically told your mother—your fucking mother for Christ’s sake—that you plan on going right back out there and doing it again. I know you feel you need to do this—and god help me I love you for it—but I can’t watch you throw yourself into danger again and again. Just thinking about it . . .”

Charlie’s whole body was shivering now. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her chest, curling in on herself as tears flowed down her cheeks. Every breath was shaky and unsteady, even as she tried to slow her breathing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , _fuck!_ Not again! I hate this. I fucking _hate_ it. I _will not_ let this be my life again, god damn it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I _won’t_.” She slammed her hand back into the wall for emphasis and slid down to the floor.

“Oh, fuck this.” Jo pulled the i.v. out of her arm and pushed herself out of bed. She knelt in front of Charlie, put her hands lightly on Charlie’s shoulders, and pressed her forehead against the crown of Charlie’s head. “Shhh. Hey, honey. It’s gonna be okay. Breathe for me, okay? I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine. Just breathe with me. In . . . out . . .”

Slowly, painfully slowly, Charlie’s breathing calmed and the shaking stopped. When Charlie’s breathing had been steady for a couple of minutes Jo gently kissed the top of her head and then turned to sit against the wall beside her with their shoulders a few inches apart. After a few minutes more, Charlie lifted her head from her chest and let it fall back against the wall.

“So, that sucked,” Charlie force a fake smile. “But I think it illustrated my point pretty well.” She kept her focus on the other side of the room.

Jo turned to face her. “Look, Charlie, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. If I’d had any idea that it would affect you this way I’d have . . .”

“What?” Charlie interrupted gently. “Let those women die to prevent me having a panic attack? Really?”

Jo leaned back against the wall again. “No, probably not. You’re right. It sucks, but there it is. Where does that leave us?”

Charlie shrugged. “I think I’m gonna have to pull a Logan Echolls on you. The kind where I leave you because I can’t watch you continually put yourself at risk, not the kind where I secretly sleep with your mortal enemy while we’re on a break.”

“Well, hey. At least you aren’t smuggling drugs or running off to Mexico with your dead ex’s secret love-child.” Jo smiled sadly.

“True fact. I’m glad you can keep these things in perspective. And at least I can say I’ve been a good influence on you.”

Jo sniffed. “Oddly enough, I think you have. Have you figured out your next steps? You can stay here in town if you want; I won’t be here. I think I’m gonna get on the road as soon as I’m mostly functional. My mom’s not likely to let me out of her sight anytime soon, but there’s a lot of stuff out there that needs doing. I’d explain more, but I don’t think . . .”

“Yeah. Definitely. I so don’t want to know.” Charlie was silent for a moment. “Actually, there’s this company in Chicago that’s been after me for a while, and I think I might accept their job offer. I’m getting kind of old for a college town, you know? The work doesn’t sound all that shiny, but it’d be super high-speed internet and an actual, legit paycheck. Maybe it’s time for me to grow up a little bit? Get some stability in my life—a slightly bigger apartment to fill with lovely fandom treasures.”

Jo let out a fake gasp. “Say it ain’t so. The inimitable Charlie is selling out?”

“Hey, maybe I can change them from the inside? Richard Roman Enterprises might be my Initiative, my Rossum Corporation, my Wolfram and Hart.” Charlie grinned, and Jo shook her head.

“Yeah, none of those examples turned out well for the heroes involved.”

Charlie winced, then smirked. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a hero.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Jo murmured, and then they sat in silence.

“So . . .” Charlie began, “I should probably go, huh? I gotta pack, and sitting on the floor is probably not-so-much what the doctor ordered for you.”

Charlie stood, stretched, and then reached down to grab Jo’s hand. She helped her up and wrapped an arm around her waist to support her the short distance to the bed. Jo sat on the edge of the bed, and they both looked down to where Charlie still held Jo’s hand. With a mocking bow Charlie brought it to her lips. Jo smiled as she gently pulled her hand away and flipped Charlie off. Charlie laughed, and bent down to kiss her. They clung to each other for a moment before they let go and Charlie stepped back.

“You’ll call me though, right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. I promise.”

“Good.” Charlie nodded. “You’d better. And if I find out you were near Chicago and didn’t come visit, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet I will end you.”

“Noted.”

Charlie slowly turned and walked away.

“Hey, Charlie?”

Charlie paused at the door to the room and turned to look back at Jo.

“You still my girl?”

Charlie smiled and blinked away tears. “Always.”

She walked out of the room and shut the door carefully behind her.


	5. I Don't Do Sadness

Charlie wasn’t sure if she had really expected Jo to call, but she was relieved when she did, even if it was only to ask for help getting access to some F.B.I. files. At least it let Charlie know that she was doing okay. Charlie told herself that nothing too bad could have happened, or Jo would have at least mentioned it. Jo called again a couple weeks later for tips on tracking an online money trail, and a couple of weeks after that she wanted help locating someone based on their posts to an online message board.

After Jo called four times in three weeks asking Charlie to hack into a series of police files with increasingly laughable security, Charlie decided it was time to put her foot down. She said she wanted to talk to Jo and was happy to help with cases, but she needed to know that they would have actual conversations as well. Jo was surprisingly easy to convince.

Charlie tried not to read too much into it when Tuesday afternoons became their quasi-official time. They talked about their weeks, about what they had read, watched, and done. Charlie watched Dollhouse—the new Joss Whedon show—religiously every Friday, and Jo tried to catch up before Tuesday so they could discuss it at length. Occasionally Jo would have to reschedule a call because of a case, but she always made sure to get back to Charlie within a day or two.

Months went by. Then, one day in the middle of August as their phone call was winding down Jo casually asked, “So, I don’t think I mentioned, but we’re actually in Wisconsin right now finishing up a case. After we’re done Mom wants to check in with some contacts in northern Indiana.”

“Yeah?” Charlie mimicked Jo’s casual tone, determined not to get her hopes up.

“So, that means we’ll be driving past your city. Mom is willing to drop me off with you for a bit. You know, if that works for you.”

“Seriously!?! Are you joking? Of course it works for me! Any time works for me! When would you be coming?”

“It kinda depends on the case,” Jo said. “If everything goes well, maybe Thursday or Friday. Is that too late of notice? You have work, right? I’m sure I could find somewhere to hang around and wait if you aren’t available.”

“No way! Just tell me as soon as you know, and I’ll figure out work stuff. It’ll be great, I promise.”

“Okay. Cool. Thanks, Charlie.” Charlie could almost hear Jo’s smile over the phone.

“Hey, Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really excited to see you.” Charlie’s whisper was barely audible.

“Yeah, me, too.” Jo whispered in return.

When Jo arrived Charlie enthusiastically documented every moment with her new, digital camera.

*SNAP*

Jo’s skepticism at the price of the deluxe doughnuts.

*SNAP*

Jo’s closed eyes and smile of pure bliss as she savored her first bite.

*SNAP*

Jo’s mischievous grin as she stole the rest of Charlie’s doughnut and shoved it into her mouth.

*SNAP*

Jo climbing down the giant-sized, rock steps at Promontory Point.

*SNAP*

Jo standing at the edge of the rocky terrace, looking out over the lake as the wind whiped her hair across her face and waves crashed inches below her feet.

*SNAP*

Jo turning to grin at Charlie and beckon her closer.

*SNAP*

“Hey, Charlie, what’s with the sudden Peter Parker impression? Are you afraid you’ll forget what I look like?” Jo pushed her hair out of her face and reached out to pull Charlie next to her.

Charlie slung the camera over her shoulder and bumped against Jo. “Dude, was that a Spider-man reference? Where’d that come from?”

Jo shrugged and smirked. “Date a nerd long enough and you can’t help picking up a few things.”

“You’ve been dating a nerd?” Charlie feigned shock and outrage. “Should I be jealous?”

“Maybe. She’s this cute, lesbian red-head—wicked smart and an amazing hacker, but also a hopeless geek.”

Charlie stepped behind Jo, wrapped her arms around her waist, and rested her head on her shoulder. “Jo, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Willow Rosenberg’s a fictional character.”

“Yeah?” Jo rested her hands on top of Charlie’s.

“Yeah.”

Jo sighed. “Oh, well. Any idea where I could find a rough, real-world approximation?”

“I might have some thoughts.” Charlie reached up, gently brushed Jo’s hair out of her face, turned her head, and kissed her.

Jo smiled and turned in Charlie’s arms to face her and deepen the kiss. She was reaching her arms around Charlie’s neck when her foot hit a patch of water on the rock and she slipped. She started to fall back towards the lake. Charlie immediately threw her weight in the other direction, and they both stumbled away from the water. Laughing and out of breath, they collapsed onto the step behind them.

“Dork.” Jo said, ruffling Charlie’s hair and smiling.

“Hey! I totally just saved your life! I’m pretty sure that earns me a reward, not an insult!”

“You think so?” Jo leaned forward and pulled Charlie into a kiss. One hand cradled Charlie’s cheek while the other slid into Charlie’s hair.

“Mommy! There’re people _kissing_ over here!” The small child’s voice was only a few feet away. “They almost fell in the lake. I _saw_ them. And now they’re sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths!”

Charlie and Jo pulled apart to see a cluster of kids all staring and pointing at them.

“Oh, God. Maybe we should—“

“Go somewhere else?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so.”

Jo stood on the step they’d been sitting on and reached down to give Charlie a hand up.

“So, we’re in Chicago. It looks like you’ve finally got your chance to take me somewhere really nice. What’s our destination?” Jo asked.

“Actually,” Charlie said. “I was thinking of a night in watching the end of ‘The Sarah Connor Chronicles’ and introducing you to the epic deliciousness of local microbrews and Chicago-style pizza.”

“Yeah? That sounds like my perfect date.”

“Really? I wish I’d known. I would have planned something completely different.” Charlie’s eyes were wide with false sincerity.

Jo bumped their hips together. “I love you, too, dork.”

“Well, that sucked.” Jo’s expression was a mix of annoyance and indignation as she leaned back against the arm of the couch. Her feet brushed against Jo’s on the cushions between them.

*SNAP*

“Seriously?” Jo turned to face Charlie. “Your response to my disappointment in a shitty series finale is to take a picture?”

Charlie sniffed. “Hey! It’s not their fault the show got canceled before its time! They did the best they could with what they had.” She grinned wickedly. “And damn straight I took a picture. Your expression was priceless.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charlie twisted her face into a mask of exaggerated sorrow. “Oh, woe is me. The fiction of which I wish to partake has denied me my requisite satisfying, happy ending.”

“I never said it had to be happy! But, yeah. An actual ending, with some kind of closure—is that really too much to ask?”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. Personally, I think closure’s kind of overrated.”

“Whatever. You’re just sore because you didn’t like the end of Serenity.” Jo smiled wickedly.

Charlie gaped at her. “Now that’s just mean! I don’t make fun of your most heart-rending character deaths!”

Jo shook her head. “Right. Of course not. You just make fun of me.”

“Hey, what’s a girl supposed to do when presented with such an appealing target?”

“Whatever, dork.” Jo stuck out her tongue.

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jo stared off into space for a moment, then nudged Charlie’s foot with her own. “Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Probably should have asked this earlier, but . . . Are you seeing anybody?”

“What, like, romantically?”

“No, like hallucinations.” Jo rolled her eyes. “Yes, _romantically_ , dork.”

Charlie shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I tried a couple of times—went on a few dates—but nothing felt right, you know?”

Jo looked away and clenched her jaw. “Sure, yeah. I mean—I’m sure if you just keep trying you’ll find the right person eventually. You just have to give it some time.”

“What? No! Hey, look at me.” Charlie kicked at Jo’s feet until she reluctantly turned her head to glare at her. “I _meant_ it didn’t feel right because I am not in any way shape or form over your dumb self. Got it?”

Jo’s eyes lit up, and she tried to hold back a smile. “I don’t know. It’s pretty complicated. You’ll have to give my dumb self some time to process it.”

They were silent for a couple of minutes.

“What about you?” Charlie asked. “Did you met anybody? The adrenaline rush after a case would make for some pretty hot sex.”

Jo raised her eyebrows. “You know almost all of the people I work with are guys my mom’s age or older.”

“Oh.” Charlie made a face. “Ew.”

Jo grinned evilly. “But Charlie, think about it—pot-bellies and hairy backs and greying beards. Imagine the possibilities.”

“Oh, gods. That’s not fair!” Charlie shivered. “There is not enough brain-bleach in the whole gorram world to scrub out that mental image. I may never be aroused again.”

“Oh, no! Never aroused again! That would be a national tragedy! Lesbians everywhere would never forgive me! I’d have to turn straight!” Jo threw up her hands in mock horror.

“Hey! Don’t even joke about that!” Charlie pounced on Jo and started tickling her.

Jo giggled and squirmed for a moment before she easily flipped Charlie off onto the floor and pinned her to the carpet. She was going for payback when Charlie tried a new move that she’d learned in her self-defense class. It flipped Jo over onto her back, but instead of popping back up to continue her attack Jo grimaced and cursed.

“What? What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Jo shook her head and slowly started to push herself into a sitting position.

“I don’t think so.” Charlie straddled Jo’s legs and gently pushed her shirt up to reveal mottled bruising and a nasty gash along Jo’s side. The wound had been stitched up, but it was just beginning to heal and Charlie could see red irritation around the stitches. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jo shoved her shirt back down. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I didn’t want you treating me like some kind of invalid just because I got myself a little torn up.”

“A little—?” Charlie raised her eyebrows. “That’s more than ‘a little torn up’.”

Jo shrugged and turned her head away. “You should see the other guy.”

“I don’t want—“ Charlie kissed Jo’s cheek. “—to see—“ She nipped at her earlobe. “—the other guy.” She mouthed the corner of her jaw. “I want—“ She kissed down Jo’s neck. “—to take care—“ She kissed her shoulder. “—of you.” She sat up and looked down at Jo lightly running her fingers down Jo’s arms. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Jo cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “What happens if I say, ‘Yes’?”

Charlie smiled wickedly and gently raised Jo’s hands above her head. “Then I just might have to make you.”

Jo smiled back. “Mmmm, now _that_ I’d like to see.”

Charlie bit her lower lip in thought. She held Jo’s wrists pinned with one of her hands, and with the other she unfastened Jo’s belt and whipped it out of her belt loops. She guided Jo’s hands on either side of the couch leg. Then she wrapped the belt around Jo’s wrists and pulled it tight.

Jo winced slightly and tugged against it. When she felt it hold she grinned. Charlie smiled back at her and licked her lips. She slipped her thumbs under the hem of Jo’s shirt and tank-top and carefully pulled them up and off of her until they tangled around her bound wrists. Jo shivered slightly under the intensity of Charlie’s gaze.

Charlie traced her fingers slowly down along the inside of Jo’s arms, pressing just firmly enough not to tickle. She continued the path down Jo’s sides to her hips, then pressed a gentle kiss over every one of the stiches binding the cut. Jo bit her lip, and Charlie could see her struggling to hold still.

Charlie’s hand stroked lightly over one of Jo’s breasts and just barely tickled over the nipple. Jo twitched and bit back a whimper. Charlie took pity on her, cupped the breast more firmly, and leaned forward to capture Jo’s mouth with a kiss. Jo opened to her right away, and Charlie took her time exploring Jo’s mouth with her tongue. Her thumb toyed with Jo’s nipple, teasing it into a hard nub. She sucked Jo’s lower lip into her mouth and then nipped at it just as she tweaked her nipple. Jo moaned and arched her body up towards Charlie’s hand.

Charlie grinned and pulled away slightly, kissing her way down Jo’s neck and shoulder before taking the nipple into her mouth. She alternated firm suction with strokes of her tongue and the occasional, careful hint of teeth. Her hands slid down to unfasten Jo’s pants and slide them down along with Jo’s underwear. Jo kicked them off awkwardly, hampered by the hands caressing her hips and the mouth on her breast.

Charlie settled herself between Jo’s legs and held her hips firmly in place. She kissed her way further down Jo’s body. Her lips and tongue lightly caressed each bruise. She found a patch of unharmed skin just below Jo’s hip bone and attacked it—nipping and sucking steadily to draw blood to the surface and leave her own mark.

Charlie’s hand slid up the inside of Jo’s thigh, spreading her legs wide and circling at her opening, catching the building moisture and spreading it around. She thrust two fingers inside, and Jo arched into the sudden pressure.

“Mmm. That’s right. So hot. You’re so wet for me.” Charlie pulled out her dripping fingers. “Want to taste yourself?”

Jo snorted and lifted her head to look down at Charlie incredulously. Charlie wiggled her eyebrows and Jo dropped her head back and laughed.

Charlie sniffed indignantly and wiped her fingers on Jo’s thigh. Jo tried to squirm away, but Charlie used both hands to hold onto her and firmly spread her thighs apart. Charlie bent down and licked firmly up the center of Jo’s slit to her clit, flicking it with her tongue. Jo gasped and then moaned.

Charlie was nothing if not enthusiastic. One hand cupped Jo’s ass while the other worked with her tongue—circling Jo’s entrance, pressing inside, seeking out every one of her sweet spots. And then working Jo’s clit, rubbing it, teasing it, sucking on it. Jo twitched and writhed and then shook when her orgasm broke over her. She turned her head to the side and tried to muffle her shout against her arm.

Charlie stroked her gently through it as she came down. When Jo’s breathing had calmed Charlie freed her wrists and rubbed them gently, ignoring the dampness on Jo’s cheeks.

Jo grabbed Charlie and pulled her down to lie in front of her, Jo’s naked body spooning Charlie’s fully clothed one. One arm cradled Charlie’s body while the other hand unfastened Charlie’s pants and slipped inside. Charlie was already wet. Jo worked her fast and hard, pressing their bodies firmly together so that all Charlie could do was wriggle and squeeze her thighs together, pulling Jo’s fingers further into her body as she rode out her orgasm.

Jo slowly pulled her hand out of Charlie’s pants. She went to wipe it off on Charlie’s thigh, but Charlie caught it and brought it to her mouth, licking and sucking each of Jo’s fingers clean. Jo snuggled closer against Charlie and kissed the back of her neck.

They lay together for a while before Charlie started to fidget. “Hey, you know what would make this better?”

“Less clothing for you?” Jo guessed, sleepily.

“Well, I was thinking sleeping in the bed instead of on the floor, but your answer’s good, too.”

Jo reluctantly loosened her grip and let Charlie slip out of her arms. She laid back with a soft smile on her face as she watched Charlie fumble out of her clothing, then she stood and followed Charlie into the bedroom.

“Hey, Charlie, no bullshit this time—why all the pictures?”

They climbed under the covers, and Charlie cuddled under Jo’s arm, pressing her body all along Jo’s uninjured side.

“I don’t know. I guess—I like seeing you here, in this place that’s become my city. I know you can’t stay, I just—I want to make sure I remember every second of it, you know? Because who knows how long it will be until you can come back?”

Jo ran her fingers gently through Charlie’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Charlie shook her head slightly. “Don’t be sorry. Just—just try to take care of yourself. Okay?” Her fingers lightly traced over the healing gash in Jo’s side.

Jo smoothed back Charlie’s hair and kissed her gently on the forehead. They were both quiet for a long while.

Just as Charlie was drifting off to sleep she heard Jo whisper, “Love you, too, dork.”

Charlie woke up slowly the next morning. She took a moment to luxuriate in the feeling of Jo’s warm body next to her. Then she sat up and stretched her arms above her head, twisting and turning until her back cracked. Looking down, she smiled at the sight of Jo sprawled on her stomach. Jo’s face was turned to the left, her hair was spread across her pillow, and she had one leg pulled up and to the side so that it peeked out of the covers. She looked almost unreal—like a painting or a still from a movie. Charlie couldn’t resist grabbing her camera to take one more picture.

*SNAP*

Jo shifted and mumbled in her sleep. Charlie put the camera aside and climbed back into bed. She gently brushed Jo’s hair off her face and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Jo rolled over sleepily and threw an arm around Charlie. Charlie cuddled in close, shut her eyes, and smiled peacefully as she slipped back into sleep.

The next time Charlie woke up Jo was gone. A frantic search revealed that she had taken all of her things but left a note lying on top of Charlie’s computer.

_Thank you for yesterday. It was perfect. I’m sorry I suck at goodbyes. I wish I could stay, but it wouldn’t work for either of us. I’ll call when I can. Your girl always._

_Love,_

_Jo_

The last call came about a month later. Charlie had just finished a forty-eight-hour hackathon and hadn’t slept in slightly longer. She managed to stumble to her bed and pass out at eleven-thirty. When her phone went off at two a.m. she flailed at it vaguely, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Charlie woke up at one in the afternoon. She poured herself a bowl of cereal, sat down in front of her computer, and had just started sorting through her new email when she noticed the alert on her phone indicating that she had a new voicemail from an unknown number. She shoveled another spoonful of cereal into her mouth and punched in her passcode. Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard when she heard Jo’s familiar voice.

“Charlie? Hey, Charlie. Awww, Charlie, c’mon, pick up. I know ’s late, but you’re s’pposed to be my night-owl hacker queen lady, so please just answer the phone, ‘kay?” The reception was patchy, and it was hard to hear, but Jo’s words sounded slurred.

“Sorry. I don’ wanna wake you, I just . . . just wish you were here, y’know? I’ve been drinking with an angel, and I said I wanted to spend the night with my self-respect, but it was a fuckin’ lie. I wanna spend the night wi’ you, Charlie. T’night and t’morrow and on and on and on, but ‘s not gonna happen. We gotta go save the fuckin’ world again, and I’m sorry, Charlie, but I’m pretty damn sure we aren’t comin’ back from this one. And it’s prob’ly shitty of me to put this on ya, but I jus’ wanna say I wish you were here or I was there or somethin’. I wish lotsa things were dif’rent and I wish you’d picked up and I wish I’d woken you up to say I loved you one more time before I left Chicago. So, yeah. I love you dork. Wish me luck. I’ll call you when it’s over, and you can mock the shit out of me for drunk dialing you. Or, y’know, not. Thank you for everything. Really. I love you. This is just . . . it’s somethin’ I have to do, y’know? So, yeah. Goodbye.”

Charlie stared at the phone as it switched over to the automated message.

“To save this message press ‘5’. To erase press ‘7’. To hear this message again—“ Charlie shut it off.

She told herself that it was barely after noon. Poor, hungover Jo needed to drag herself out of bed, eat, foil someone’s evil plan, remember the voicemail, and then work up the nerve to call Charlie and own up to her own melodrama. Really, Charlie shouldn’t expect to hear from her until four or five, at the earliest.

For the rest of the afternoon Charlie jumped every time her phone rang and eagerly clicked on every new message in her inbox, hoping for some word from Jo. When she still hadn’t heard anything by seven she tried calling the number—it went straight to voicemail. Charlie hung up and tried again, this time leaving a message. She forced herself to sound calm and joking and only slightly annoyed that Jo was making her worry like this.

As the night wore on and she continued to get no response, Charlie stopped pretending to stay calm. Her messages got more and more frantic. She cursed and she cried and she fell asleep with her phone clutched to her chest—set to vibrate with the highest volume setting so that there was absolutely no chance that she would sleep through it ringing.

The next day Charlie called in sick to work. She looked up the number Jo had called from and managed to link it to a currently inactive cellphone gps and identify its last known location—Carthage, Missouri. All of the surveillance cameras that she could find in the area were inactive. Satellite footage showed almost no activity in the town, except a large explosion in the early afternoon. Charlie figured the explosion must have happened right around the time she was sitting down to breakfast. The thought felt like a kick to the stomach. She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

She called the number again and got a message telling her that the voicemail was full.

Two days later the message said, “The number you have reached has been disconnected.”

Charlie threw the phone at the wall hard enough that it shattered.

She called Richard Roman Enterprises, told them that there had been a death in her family, and asked to take a leave of absence. She told herself that she was lying to them so she could have time to investigate.

Charlie drove to Carthage and stood in the rubble. She wondered what the hell had happened. So many possibilities were all too easy to imagine: Jo striding bravely through this creepy ghost town with her mom at her side. Jo taking out bad guys right and left, knocking them down and tying them up. Jo dead in an instant from a stray bullet. Jo bleeding out slowly, scared and alone. Jo with a concussion and amnesia, wandering into the next town, never realizing that Charlie was going out of her mind with worry.

Charlie tried to talk to people to find out more information, but as far as she could tell all of the survivors were only alive because they hadn’t been in town that day. She stretched her hacking skills to the limit, but she couldn’t find anything more concrete than a general consensus that the world was going crazy and it was almost certainly the end of days. She set up search programs to alert her if any new information about Jo popped up, but weeks turned into months and nothing did.

Eventually she had to accept the fact that she would never really know what had happened to Jo. She tried to believe that it was for the best—she didn’t want to know and closure was totally overrated. Some days she even succeeded.


	6. Epilogue: Those You've Known

When she found out that the Winchesters had a series of books written about them, part of Charlie was completely unsurprised. Rationally, of course, it was ridiculous and impossible, but she’d seen Sam and Dean take on biblical monsters and an honest-to-god fairy princess. The whole meta story-within-a-story thing felt almost inevitable, and the boys had always seemed larger-than-life anyway.

Reading all of the books as fast as she could get her hands on them was a no-brainer. After all, her first meeting with the boys could have been a one-time thing, but Charlie was deeply familiar with the rules of fiction, and a second encounter meant that she was now a recurring character. That meant inevitable exposure to more weird shit later on, and she was damn well going to arm herself with every bit of information she could find before her next guest appearance.

Reading the books was alternatively trippy, hilarious, fascinating, and depressing as hell. The writing quality varied wildly from one book to another, and was generally a bit too pulpy for Charlie’s taste, but she found herself drawn into the storylines. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like to read the books without having met the boys. Would she like them more? Less? Would she have picked a favorite Winchester to identify with? She found herself drawn towards Dean, but how much was that influenced by her fond memories of his enthusiasm about LARPing? Other times she got so engrossed in the symbolism and foreshadowing and parallel character arcs that she had to stop and remind herself that these were real people, and everything she was reading about had actually happened.

Everything changed when she got to book number twenty-four: Everybody Loves a Clown.

The chapters about the homicidal clown were normal enough—nightmare city, but not quite as bad as that stuff with the bugs in book eight. She enjoyed the angsty tension between the brothers in the junkyard just enough to feel vaguely guilty. Sam and Dean were actual people after all; she probably shouldn’t get into the habit of enjoying their unhappiness. Then the boys headed to meet some contact of their dad’s and . . . No way. No _fucking_ way. Charlie stared at the book in shock, but the words on the page remained stubbornly the same: Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

Charlie shook her head. That was ridiculous. Harvelle was a common name; it was just a coincidence. She was totally overreacting.

Then Dean got punched in the face by a petite blonde and Charlie knew—even before she turned the page and saw the name—she _knew_ who it was: Jo. Her Jo. Of all the people in the entire country, in the entire fucking world, Joanna Beth Harvelle was featured in the Supernatural books. What were the fucking odds?

Charlie’s reading hadn’t exactly been casual before, but now it became almost fanatical. She devoured the rest of the book that same day, and then reread every scene with even the briefest mention of Jo.

Charlie couldn’t decide how she felt. Part of her was grateful for every scrap of information about the girl that she had loved. Part of her was furiously jealous knowing that the general public had access to that same information. She had far too much experience with fandoms to trust them to properly appreciate Jo’s mind-blowing awesomeness.

On some level she still couldn’t reconcile the steadfast reality of Jo with this fantastical world of supernatural monsters. She’d seen Jo with bedhead and morning breath. She’d seen Jo on laundry day when she was wearing undies with holes in them and giant shirts with the tacky logos of mediocre sports teams. Charlie was pretty sure the Winchesters only did laundry to wash off monster blood when they got a moment of down time between saving the world and talking about their feelings.

Then there was the part of Charlie that wanted to hide. The part that remembered every moment of fear she had felt while she was with Jo, knowing that Jo was putting herself in danger and unable to help her or stop her. Charlie sensed every ounce of pain that she had felt after she lost Jo, waiting just below the surface, ready to come flooding back. She was completely terrified to discover what horrifying traumas and truths the rest of the books might hold for her, but she couldn’t ignore the unexpected opportunity to understand more about Jo’s life.

Eventually Charlie searched online to find all of the books that included Jo, said “screw chronological order,” and read them first.

Simon Said was disappointing—not nearly enough Jo.

No Exit was scary as fuck, but Charlie grinned when Jo called Dean out on his “chauvinist crap”, and it was damn awesome to read about her girl being her brilliant, badass self.

When Charlie got to Born Under a Bad Sign she knew it was going to be bad. As soon as Sam started acting evil she realized what was going to happen. The forewarning didn’t help. In the book Sam taunted Jo, grabbed at her, pinned her to the bar. The visual was horribly vivid in Charlie’s mind: Sam’s huge body looming over Jo, the cruel twist to his lip, the sadistic triumph in his eyes. Then the image was overlaid with her memories of Jo: holding a knife to a bar patron’s throat; shaking and gasping for breath in the supply room; forcing back tears as she struggled to explain what had happened. All of that because of this moment.

Charlie slid from her couch to the floor, dropping the book and pulling her knees to her chest. She clenched her hands hard and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths until she felt more in control. When she felt a little steadier she looked over at the book on the floor and bit her lip. Yeah . . . reading the rest of that was definitely _not_ something she could handle.

She found a summary online. Finally she understood what Jo had meant when she’d said it wasn’t Sam’s fault. And Charlie felt bad for the guy, she did. Possession sounded horrifying, and she couldn’t decide if not remembering any of it made things better or worse. And Dean got shot in the shoulder and then messed with by a demon in his brother’s body, so it was an epically shitty experience for everyone involved. But mostly Charlie was pissed on Jo’s behalf. The demon had come after the Winchesters because of their history with her and her family; she’d only viewed Jo as a tool to fuck with the brothers. Neither she, the brothers, nor the narrative seemed to give two fucks about the long-term damage to Jo’s mental health. The sheer bullshit unfairness of it all left Charlie seething for days before she convinced herself to try the next book.

Good God, Y’All took place almost two years after Born Under a Bad Sign, and Charlie realized in surprise that the two books neatly framed the time that she and Jo had spent together. It made Charlie miss her desperately, but she smiled as she read about Jo working with her mother—fierce and determined and incredibly calm and confident even when interacting with the Winchesters.

When Charlie read Abandon All Hope she kept having to stop because the tears in her eyes made the words on the page too blurry to read. She read the death scene over and over, fiercely proud of Jo’s bravery and hoping against hope that this time there would be another solution. She pulled out her phone, listened to the last voice mail that Jo had left for her, and finally understood the full meaning behind the words she’d heard dozens of times. Then she curled up in a ball and sobbed until she finally fell asleep.

Charlie put off reading Defending Your Life for weeks. Part of her was just too emotionally drained from reading Abandon All Hope to feel ready to face more Supernatural angst. Part of her was reluctant to finish, wanting to save this last piece of Jo for as long as she could.

When she got to the end of the book she was dry-eyed and determined. Another monster had tried to use Jo to hurt Dean, but Jo and Sam had fought back, refusing to let Jo’s life and death be twisted around to justify Dean’s destructive self-loathing. Jo had wanted so badly not to hurt Dean, to pull him out of his deep pit of guilt. She hadn’t had much time to comfort him, disappearing back to heaven once Sam killed Osiris.

Charlie thought about her own interactions with Dean and wondered if that pain and guilt and self-hatred still haunted him after all these years. The rest of the books would probably tell her more, but she had a sinking suspicion that if anything those feelings had gotten worse. Then she remembered the amusement in his voice when he talked her through flirting, the smile that actually reached his eyes when he dressed in garb, and the joy he seemed to get from a fictional battle where no one on either side risked actual injury or death. She decided that if—when—she saw the Winchesters again she would make it her personal goal to make Dean feel better about himself, or at least help him have a little bit of fun. And then she’d help the boys kill some monsters and save the world. She felt certain that was what Jo would have wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the ending is really heavy. If you want something light to cleanse your palate, [Giggles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1193862) is basically a happy, porny timestamp in this verse.


End file.
